Ten Years Later
by NittanyLizard
Summary: Just my take on what things might be like ten years after the setting of the book.
1. A Start

**Author's Note**: Sorry to anyone who got excited thinking this was a new chapter, it's just a re-post! I had a reviewer (Lee) who correctly pointed out something that I had been afraid might cause confusion, but I'd never bothered to go back and clarify it, so here I am now. Originally I had Pony commenting on "the summer I was eighteen." I was referring to the summer after he graduated from high school, which was the summer he _turned_ eighteen. I'm going by S.E. Hinton's birthday for Pony, which is July 22nd. I apologize for any confusion to those who previously read this chapter. By my calculation, that takes it to the summer of 1970 if we assume that the events of the book took place in the fall of 1966. I could say more, but don't want to ruin it for first-time readers. I'll comment on the other issue brought up by the reviewer when I post chapter 8. For the record, the events in chapter 1 occur on Friday, August 20th, 1976. Hopefully this gives a good point of reference. If anyone else picks up on any other points of confusion or inconsistencies, feel free to mention them. I have no problem with going back and fixing things. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

* * *

I picked the top folder from my pile, leaned back in my government-issue swivel chair, and opened it. 

"Victor?"

The boy sitting on the other side of my desk glared viciously. "It's Vic," he spat.

Vic it is, then. What's your story, Vic? Thirteen years old. No siblings. Mother – skipped town three years ago while on parole. Father –

I glanced up at Vic. There was still a decent bruise next to his left eye. How long ago had it been? I consulted the file again. Two weeks. As much as I hated to do it, I flipped through the pages until I found the pictures. They had been taken at the hospital the night of the beating. Two pictures, one from the front and one from the back – Vic standing naked in front of a blank wall, showing off his bruises for all the world to see. Or at least for a series of (usually) well-meaning cogs in the machine to see. In the pictures, he wore the same tried-and-true scowl that he was giving me now. His dark eyes bore into me angrily, and his hair stuck out in unruly wisps like he hadn't combed it in…well, in two weeks. When a bunch of strangers take over your life, you maintain control in the only things you have left – you stop combing your hair. No one's going to hold you down and do _that_ for you.

"Are we almost done, mister?" he snarled.

"Pony," I told him.

He looked confused. "What?"

"You can call me Pony. That's my name."

Vic sneered at me. "As in, 'not big enough to be a horse?'"

I grinned. "No. As in, 'adorable animal that chicks like to ride.'" It was crude, but it got him. He had to look down at the floor so I wouldn't see his almost-smile.

Some of the desks around us were emptying out. I looked at the clock – three minutes till noon. Protocol dictated that I should wrap this up now. _Sorry kid, no one wants a thirteen-year-old hoodlum who spent two months in juvenile hall for armed robbery. Forget that you were stealing a sandwich, and that you were waving a butter knife at the cashier who caught you. Tough break. We can't pay anyone enough to take you home._

God, he looked so skinny.

"Hungry?" I asked him.

"Huh?"

"You do eat, don't you? Let's go get lunch." I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing, but I couldn't put that kid back in the pile…not just yet.

Vic made a point of blatantly ignoring me as I drove, which was just fine with me. I've never been one for the mindless time-filling chit chat that people actually think makes life less awkward. If you don't have something useful to say, keep your mouth shut. Vic was sure doing a good job of that.

He looked so young. It had been eleven years since I was that young, and it seemed like I must have looked older than he did. Probably not. That's probably why Darry had worried about me so much – when he had looked at me when I was thirteen, he'd probably seen a little kid that the world was ready to take into its claws and suck the life out of. Do I still look so young to him, I wondered?

Darry had taken good care of me. We had had our share of spats and disagreements, but he'd made sure I stayed in school and kept my grades up, and there was always food on the table, a warm bed, and a friendly face at the end of the day.

During the summer that I turned eighteen, Darry abruptly ceased to be the person responsible for me; ever since then, we've never had another disagreement. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I'd come home from my summer job one evening, and Darry was sitting on the couch with a letter in his hand. He looked like he had been sitting there for a while, with his work clothes still on and his hair messed up from running his hand through it about a hundred times. He looked up at me when I walked in, and for a minute I thought someone had died, by the look on his face. I guess the scenarios had been running through his mind, and to him it must have felt by then like someone _had_ died. Me, namely.

He was holding my draft letter.

Four days later, I left for boot camp, then was off to Vietnam. Soda was already over there; he had enlisted two years earlier. Who ever would have thought that Sodapop Curtis would make a great soldier? He did, though; he took care of his men, and they loved him. I put in my year of service, and despite Darry's fears, returned home the following summer and used my GI bill to put myself through college.

Soda came home the year after I did – not by choice; he'd gotten a bullet through the leg. You can hardly tell now, except for the scar, and sometimes he limps when it's going to rain. He rents a garage now and does a really good business fixing up cars. He's got one guy that works full time for him, and two high-school kids that work afternoons and weekends.

You would think Steve would be right there with Soda fixing cars, but his wife won't have it. I would almost think it was funny, if it didn't irritate the piss out of Soda, the way his wife controls him. Steve had gotten a girl pregnant right out of high school (not even the girl he had been dating – she was one he picked up at a party when he and his steady girl had broken it off for the millionth time). So anyway, Steve did the noble thing and married this girl who can't stand him, and now they've got a small house and a little kid who follows Steve around like he's the king of creation. Steve's wife's family runs a diner just north of town, and so that's where Steve works. He runs the kitchen. Other than the occasional cup of coffee, I don't eat there. I'm not stupid.

Darry is doing the best out of any of us, financially speaking I mean. He used some of the money we had saved for my college to take some business classes. His boss retired a few years ago, and transferred the business to Darry, who expanded it into a roofing and contracting gig. He has six guys working for him, and with the reputation he's built, they are in constant demand all over the city.

"Well, here we are," I said unnecessarily. Talk about your mindless chatter. I'll tell you, you get people telling you your whole life how quiet you are, and you sometimes actually start to believe that there's something wrong with that. I parked the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. I had brought us to a Dairy Queen. I don't know why, it just seemed appropriate.

We went inside, and I sat across from Vic in the booth and watched him polish off two sandwiches and a large fries. He still looked hungry. He looked something else, too. He thought he was hiding it well, and he was to most people, but I could see it as plain as day. After growing up in my neighborhood, I've found I can often penetrate the indifferent mask worn by the distrustful victims of their own lives that I see almost every day. Vic was good, but not good enough.

"I know you're scared," I ventured.

He glared at me again, like I knew he would. "You don't know nothin'. You don't know me at all."

_Oh, but I do know you. Different name, different face, but I know you._

_You're Dallas Winston. You're Johnny Cade._

_You're me, without my brothers._

I had spent the past year trying to save kids' lives from the inside, and learning that some battles are too big and some wars never end. I thought back to the pile of folders on my desk, waiting to be shuffled into homes where someone actually cared. It wasn't easy, and there weren't enough homes. Some of the homes turned out to be worse than the ones the kids were taken out of; others were just more interested in that check in the mailbox than in that kid in their living room. To be fair, most were good, and the foster parents did the best they could; but there still weren't enough.

I stared at Vic, and watched him shift uncomfortably under my gaze. I knew I was deciding on something that would have a major impact on more than one life. Good, or bad? I guess life would be a lot easier if we always had the answer to our choices right in front of us. I would have known to not run away the night Darry had hit me (or, at the very least, to not wake up Johnny and walk to the park). Of course, if all that hadn't happened, there was a good chance I wouldn't even be sitting here now looking at this scared hungry angry kid with messy hair. He would be back at the boys' group home eating canned vegetables and boiled chicken for lunch, and I would be off somewhere probably actually making some decent money. Everything leads to something else, though, and once you see the cracks in the foundation and realize that you can patch some of them up, that knowledge breeds compulsion and you do things you never believed you would.

What would Melissa think? I knew the answer, even before the question had fully formed in my mind – Melissa would understand. Growing up, I had always thought that Soda was the only one who would ever really understand me. Then I had met Melissa in college, studying to be a teacher. She would understand.

As I sat staring at uncomfortably-shifting-Vic I was struck by the sudden impression that I was at the pound, staring through the bars and wondering if he was housebroken yet. That was what did it. I looked into the eyes of the kicked puppy sitting across from me, and leaned close.

"I know you hate me. I know you think I'm the last person in the world who gives a hang about you." Vic was staring at me in confusion. "Well, Vic, today is your lucky day."

He tried for bored sarcasm. "Why? Did I win the lottery?"

"Better…you're not alone anymore."

Vic's expression faltered, just for an instant. He still didn't trust me. But he wanted to believe me.

And that was a start.


	2. Sunday Dinner

OK, here we are with Chapter 2. First off, my review thanks:

Fairlane: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I'm not really into sappy stuff, just real emotions when they would really happen. I thought through a lot of occupations over the years that Ponyboy might have gotten into (including, for one, a public defender, but I think we've all had enough of that crammed down our throats over the past several years from TV). What brought me to think of him as a social worker were his words in the book, just before he starts writing his essay for English class: "Suddenly it wasn't only a personal thing to me. I could picture hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they were mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn't believe you if you did. It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late." He wrote his essay, but I could see that not being enough for him. Just my take on things. Thanks again, hope you enjoy the next chapter (not as thought-provoking, but a little funnier).

Ale Curtis-Carter: Glad you enjoyed it! I'll be bringing the rest of the gang in gradually; hope you like what I've done with Two-Bit a few chapters in.

Aurorababe: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I'll keep it coming as long as people are enjoying!

Padfoot-kln: Thanks so much for your review. I really wasn't sure if this would go over too well, I'm glad it did. I really like your stuff too, but haven't done too many reviews since I found the site a couple of weeks ago (I'll get on it!). Your comments really made my day; hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Tensleep: Thanks again and again for the review and the emails, it's really nice to have someone who knows the ins and outs of this stuff helping out. You and your buddies have some of the best stuff out there; hope I can do half as well! Thanks again, and enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns the Outsiders and anything having anything to do with them/it; I own a house with a now-working sump pump and a dry basement (OK, I don't actually own it yet; get back to me in 29 years).

Now, on with the story.

-

"Do you want all of these in the fridge?" Soda asked, referring to the six-pack of beer he had carried in.

"Leave one out for me," I told him.

I took the rest of the beers to put them in the refrigerator, and then watched my brother approach my wife from behind, wrap his arms around her waist, and bury his face in her neck.

"Pony, can you take the…Ahhhh!" Melissa was overcome by a fit of giggles, and slid halfway to the floor before Soda let go of her.

"Damn, Pony, she's more ticklish than you," he laughed.

"Yeah, I know." I leaned on the counter and opened my beer. It had been a long time since anyone had tried anything like that with me. They would loose teeth if they did. I'm not as tall as Darry, but I have a decent build. I'll never have the muscles he's got, since I don't have a physical job, but I do my time on the weight bench in the basement to make up for it. There's something to say for not being a scrawny little kid any more.

"So, where's the Vic Monster?" Soda asked.

"Out in the back yard, throwing the football around with Darry." It had been two months since Vic had come to live with me and Melissa. He grudgingly obeyed Melissa, barely tolerated me, and was just short of openly hostile to Soda. For some reason, though, he was enthralled with Darry. I could barely get the kid to brush his teeth at night; Darry, on the other hand, could have suggested to Vic that he clean the gutters, wash the windows, shampoo the carpets, and replace the siding, and Vic would have been done before the sun was set.

"Pony!" I jolted back to reality. Melissa was looking at me like she had said something. It really irks her when I phase out like that; she thinks I'm ignoring her.

"What did you want me to do?" I was guessing that she wanted me to do something, partly because dinner was almost ready and the table still wasn't set, and partly because she was looking at me expectantly.

Melissa narrowed her eyes at me and tried to look annoyed, but didn't pull it off well. I took a swallow of my beer and grinned at her. "You know I hear everything you say. But my brain puts it in storage while I'm thinking about something else, and I can't always retrieve it instantly." She was looking like she either wanted to strangle me or hug me.

"I was asking if you could put the plates and silverware on the table now." She slid her arm around my back and leaned up for a kiss, so I complied. She smelled like a warm spring day. And God, she looked good, with little rogue strands of hair brushing her cheeks, and her ponytail coming undone from the humidity of the kitchen. I could have just gotten right down on the floor with her and…

"Could you two take that to the bedroom? The rest of us were planning to eat in here." Soda was picking at something in one of the pots on the stove. Sighing, I let go of Melissa and gathered the plates from the cabinet.

Since Vic had arrived, we were trying to be diligent about getting someone over every Sunday for dinner, to give him some semblance of family. Melissa's parents had been over the week before; they liked Vic well enough, though they weren't sure how to act around him. It had been a bit of a shock when we'd told them we were bringing a thirteen-year-old troubled boy home to live with us. I think they were expecting something a little smaller and newer in the way of grandchildren. They did try, though, just as they had tried to understand eight months ago when their daughter had informed them that she and I would be getting married by a justice of the peace in a courthouse, foregoing the big wedding that her mother had dreamed of so we could spend our money instead on our own house. Her parents made a decent living, but neither of us felt right asking them to foot the bill for a wedding that would have set them back three years worth of vacations. We had instead promised to have a small reception at the church hall for our one-year anniversary.

"Soda, could you call those two in now? Dinner is just about ready, and they'll need to wash up." Melissa was transferring everything from the pots on the stove to serving dishes, counting spoons and realizing again that we only have enough big spoons for two side dishes at once. We go through this every time. She dug around in the drawer for a soup spoon and dropped it into the mashed potatoes.

Soda opened the back door. "Dinner!" he shouted at a volume that would have indicated to anyone who had never looked out our back door that we had a back yard the size of Texas. In reality, it takes ten steps to get from our back door to the back fence. I know, I counted once while I was taking the trash out. Don't ask me why, I have no idea. Darry came through the door before Soda had even closed it, with Vic right on his tail. They were both winded and dirty; I was surprised – Vic hasn't been too keen on anyone touching him the last two months. Had he actually played tackle football? Darry answered my unasked question before I wasted any more time thinking about it.

"You've got one hell of a mud puddle halfway across the yard," he told me. "You should get some top soil for that…the both of us must have slipped in it half a dozen times."

"You couldn't have played in a different part of the yard?" I suggested.

Darry looked at me like I had a banana growing out of my ear (a look that I've become rather familiar with over the years). "'A different part of the yard?' Like over next to the pool house, perhaps? Or out by the stables? Maybe we could have just played in your tennis court and to hell with scrapes and asphalt burns."

"OK, OK, I get it. Our yard isn't that big." Vic looked like he was enjoying Darry's sarcasm immensely; he really can't stand me. Darry threw me a grin and a playful punch on the shoulder as the two of them passed by on their way to the sink. After they had washed their hands, we all sat down to eat.

"So, Vic," Sodapop began, and I saw Vic's jaw tighten, "I was thinking maybe you'd want to come over to the garage and help me fix up some of the cars next week." It sounded like a reasonable suggestion, if you hadn't been around for the past two months watching Soda make the same comment every time he saw Vic. He was clearly doing it for his own amusement at this point, to watch the reaction again and again.

"I hate cars," Vic said, teeth clenched. "I hated cars last week. And the week before that. Stop asking me about the cars already!"

Soda was trying to not laugh. "Well, hey, if you're ever interested, just let me know. You've got my number, right?" Vic ignored, and Soda turned his attention to the rest of us. "Did I tell you the garage almost got robbed the other night?" he asked in the same tone he would have used to inquire about our knowledge of the weekend football scores.

We all stared at him. "No. When was this?" Darry looked as surprised as I was.

"Wednesday night; Thursday morning, really. I was over there at 3am working on a Buick…"

"You were working at 3am?" I interrupted. "Do you do that often?" I wondered if he had gotten up incredibly early, or just not made it to bed yet.

"Nah, I promised Mrs. Hollen I'd have her car finished by Thursday afternoon, but I knew the old bat would show up by 9 in the morning. I couldn't sleep anyway; Steve and I had been out…um…OK, never mind about that part. So I'm under this car changing the oil, and I hear something crashing around in the office. I thought maybe one of those stray cats got in – the ones that keep tearing into the trash. I walk into the office, expecting to chase a hungry feline away, and here's this little shit...sorry," he caught himself, glancing apologetically at Melissa and Vic, "…and here's this little…well, yeah, here's this little shit, beating the cash register with a hammer. Dented the crap out of the thing, but the drawer wouldn't pop open (they don't make them like that any more)." Soda stopped to put some pork chops in his mouth while we all waited.

"Good chops, Liss," he said.

"Finish the story already!" Darry was getting impatient.

"Right. So I guess this kid wasn't expecting to see someone come waltzing in; he threw the hammer at me. Missed by a mile. Then he panicked, came running at me like he thought he had a chance. That was his second mistake of the night, the first being coming into my place."

"Do you think it was the same guy who hit the gas station up near the diner last weekend?" I wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Soda laughed, "but he won't be hitting anything else anytime soon, not with a broken wrist. He probably can't see too good out of his left eye either. I let him go before I hurt him too bad, but I think he got the message."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Melissa asked with concern. She hadn't grown up in a neighborhood where people pound on each other regularly, so anything that involves fighting makes her nervous.

I wondered then if I was the only one who noticed that Vic was hovering over his plate, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate. I glanced around the table, finally making eye contact with Darry. He had picked up on it, too. He raised his eyebrows at me. I wondered for the millionth time what I was doing trying to pull off this parenting thing as I tossed my options around, finally settling on the direct method. I was fairly certain I knew what was going on, and I didn't want Vic to think he could outsmart me.

"So Vic, how do you know that guy?" I asked offhandedly. Soda and Melissa looked confused.

Vic shoved another forkful into his already filled mouth. He's going to choke to death, I thought. He's going to sit there in front of me and choke himself to death with the food I gave him just to spite me, so he never has to answer my question. I reached over and took the fork out of his hand. "Swallow your food. That's good. Now, how do you know the guy?"

Vic sat in silence, watching his plate like the mysteries of the universe were unveiling themselves right there on the Corelleware.

"Vic." Darry's voice carried the hint of a warning that I knew so well. Even someone who hadn't grown up with him could recognize that slight edge, and I knew that the only thing Vic wanted right then was Darry's approval. He caved.

"I don't know him. He's a friend of someone I know." Vic looked up at me, something between fear and anger flooding his eyes. "If he thinks I ratted him out…"

"No one's asking for names," Darry snapped. "We don't do that in this family."

"Vic, I just wanted to know how you know him," I explained. "You've got to be careful about associating with guys like that, they'll get you into trouble before you realize what's happening. He's not a friend of yours?"

Vic shook his head. "No. I can't stand him, he's an idiot." That was a relief for me. Vic buried his face in his hands then, elbows on the table, and his body began to shake slightly.

It took me a minute to realize he was laughing.

"Do you want to let us in on the joke?" Melissa asked him.

Vic was laughing so hard now he was almost in tears. "That guy…he made like he fought off three guys…" he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and tried unsuccessfully to control himself before continuing, "…you would have thought one was a grizzly…" again, he had to stop to catch his breath before finishing, still laughing, "…and it was…" waving a hand toward Soda, "it was just…YOU!" He completely dissolved into hysterics. It was the first time I had seen Vic laugh, and I was thankful that Soda didn't make a big deal out of the insult. In fact, glancing over at him, he seemed to be finding the whole thing almost as amusing as Vic did. Go figure.

Darry just shook his head. "Yeah, I'd say he's one of us. Or one of you two, anyway."

It was Vic's turn to look insulted. He tried, anyway.

I think that for the first time, he truly felt like a part of the family. Things started to go really well after that night. For a few days.

Hope you liked, don't forget to review!


	3. The Grass is Always Greener

A/N: Here we are again. Don't get too excited now, I don't think I can keep up this rate of updating! I'm putting my review thank-yous at the end, so everyone can get to the story first. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders; no one can own Vic, he wouldn't have it.

Dedication: This goes out to Rich, who reads all my chapters even though he doesn't remember the book and who listens with interest to my rambling, and to Tens, who inspired me to put my own creation on this site and who doesn't seem to mind when I send her a rambling email. Enough rambling, let's move on.

**Pony's POV**

It was 2:30 in the afternoon. I had just hung up the phone after my fifth consecutive call since lunch, when it rang again. I almost didn't answer. An hour and a half of sitting at a desk with a phone pressed to my ear, going in circles with people high on their own importance, had me in such a knot I was ready to sit back and smoke through my entire week's pack of cigarettes. I had cut myself back to a pack a week at Melissa's prodding, but was reconsidering, with the people I had to deal with. Nothing can just be simple.

On the fifth ring I snatched the phone off the hook, not so much because my coworkers were all looking at me anxiously, but because it was grating on my already worn nerves.

"What!" I snapped unintentionally into the receiver. Why am I so tense? I could really use a cigarette, I'm usually more professional than that.

There was a pause.

"Um…Social services, Ponyboy Curtis speaking," I revised.

"Mr. Curtis? This is Officer Jason Franks. I've gone on a few of your backup calls…" he faded off expectantly.

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry, officer, it's been a long aftern…" I cut myself off. Why was he calling me? Typically, I called him, when I was going on a home visit where I anticipated trouble, like for a pick-up. "What can I do for you?" I asked suspiciously.

"I've got a young man here…" I could hear papers shuffling, "…Victor Madison. He's yours, isn't he?"

My stomach clenched. "Yeah, he's mine. What happened?"

"You can come on down here and pick him up, I'll explain everything then. Don't worry, I pulled him out before he got booked when I saw he was yours."

Booked for what? He was supposed to be in school! "Uh, sure, thanks. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Just ask for me at the front desk." The phone clicked, and I was left sitting there dumbfounded.

I had a good long time to think things over in the car on the way over to the station, with the backup I was sitting in; from the flashing lights up ahead, I gathered there had been an accident, and I was up too far to be able to turn off and go a different way.

It had been three days since our moderately successful Sunday dinner. Vic had been behaving a little more humanly to me, almost friendly. It was like something clicked, and a little of the shell he had enclosed himself in was eroding away.

The first couple of weeks he had lived with us had been hell, probably for him as much as me, but I have to wonder. He did everything possible to push my buttons, test his limits, and drive me crazy, and I knew exactly what he was doing. After about two weeks, he seemed to realize that, first, I wasn't sending him away, and second, he couldn't come up with anything to do that was bad enough to make me hit him. Eventually he stopped flinching every time I reached across him to get something out of the cabinet or off the table or wherever.

Early on I put him on a tight leash. I didn't want to, because it was important to me that he felt trustworthy, but he was already almost fourteen, I didn't know him, and my first concerns were keeping him safe and out of trouble. He wanted to go out and spend time with his friends, which I let him do, but there were rules: I needed to know who he would be with, where they were going, and when they would be coming back. On top of it, he was required to call me every hour, no matter where he was or what he was doing. I also reserved the right to go out at any point and check to make sure he was really where he claimed to be, and with the people he had told me he would be with.

It's become customary for me to hand Vic a pocketful of dimes before he goes out. There are payphones all over the city, so there is no reason he shouldn't be able to follow the call-in rule, but I had clearly stated the consequences of a missed call from the beginning: if he were more than ten minutes late on a call, I would contact everyone at my disposal, and we would comb the city for him. Once I got him home, he would be under close surveillance for the next week – school during the day, home with Melissa afterward, and no leaving the house except with either me or Melissa. Even unsupervised visits to Darry were prohibited; I trust Darry with my life, but it was a punishment – almost from the beginning I could see how much Vic enjoyed time with my oldest brother. He had tested me only once on the call-in rule, and was severely unhappy with the result. Vic saw that I had been serious, and I was sure he wouldn't miss a call again.

Sometimes, I wish I were the kid again – no real worries, somebody else figures out the rules, and you don't have to feel like a jerk telling someone what to do all the time.

Today, though – what was this all about? Had Vic cut school? I didn't think so; either Melissa or I should have gotten a call from the school if he hadn't shown up. He hadn't even been out with his friends since Friday night, with all the homework he'd been getting, and when they had gone out, it had just been to a movie, then back to our house afterward for a late-night snack. As much as it probably bothered Vic, his friends seemed to like coming to our house. We didn't ask questions, didn't bug them, and didn't care if our dirty old second-hand furniture got dirtier. We had taken them all out to a movie for Vic's birthday not long after he had moved in with us. They seemed like a good bunch of kids, watching their language in front of Melissa and remembering to use most of their manners most of the time.

The backup was starting to move, and from then on it took only another ten minutes to get to the police station. I approached the desk sergeant when I walked in. "Pony Curtis; I'm here to see Officer Franks."

He picked up a phone and dialed a few buttons. "Franks? There's a Mr. Curtis?" he looked to me and I nodded, "a Mr. Curtis here to see you. Righto." He hung up. "He'll be right down. You can take a seat over there."

"Mr. Curtis!" I hadn't even sat down yet when I heard the familiar voice. Officer Franks was jogging down the stairs, waving to me. "Come on up." I followed him up the stairs to what I'm guessing was his desk. Police stations still make me nervous. I try to avoid them when I can. I even felt a little jumpy around Officer Franks, who was about the nicest guy I knew.

"The boys took the dog over to the high school earlier this afternoon for a locker check," he explained. I was aware that about once in a blue moon a drug-sniffing dog was taken to one of the schools to check the lockers. "We got several kids, one of them being your Victor," he continued.

"It's Vic," I corrected. I don't know why I felt like I needed to say that, he wasn't even in the room with us.

Officer Franks smiled. "I know, he told me. Anyway, he didn't have much – just a small bag of marijuana. If it had been more…well, I know you're a good guy, and if anyone's going to straighten this kid out you will, so I pulled him out for you before he got booked. Shame to see a kid get himself in trouble over such a little bag of grass."

I'm not sure if he had any idea how grateful I was that he had kept this under the table. Vic already had a record, and something like this would have been enough to put him back in juvenile hall for a while. That was the last thing he needed. I extended my hand. "Thanks, officer. I really appreciate this. I don't even know what to say…"

Shaking my hand, he smiled again. "I've got my own kids, I know how hard it is keeping track of them – can't even imagine if I hadn't gotten them until their teens. Yeah, hard enough as it is. You just keep looking after these kids. Someone has to get to them before I do." I nodded. He turned then and led me up the hallway. "I've got him waiting in one of the interrogation rooms. Oh, you'll need this." He handed me a small key; I dropped it into my pocket as he opened the door.

**Vic's POV**

The room was stifling. Were they expecting to be questioning geezers from the old folks' home in here? It must have been ninety degrees in that room. Maybe it just felt warm to me.

My nose itched like crazy. It's probably just a psychological thing, but they put those cuffs on me, and all of a sudden I need my hands for things I don't even realize I'm using them for most of the time. They were making me feel nauseous. I can't stand having handcuffs on. Maybe I wouldn't mind so much, except for all of the stuff that Ray had put me through…

I was seriously starting to think I would throw up. What was taking so long? Normally they would have taken my picture by now and thrown me in a cell with a bunch of other guys to get my face bashed in for being something less of a hood, but enough of a problem, to get myself into the company of the likes of them.

What the hell was going on! I tapped my foot impatiently. I really needed to scratch my nose. Finally I got up out of the chair and tried scratching it on the wall; that just didn't do it. Another wave of nausea hit me when I moved my arm and my other arm got pulled along with it. If I just stay perfectly still, I can almost pretend that I'm not chained together, that I'm holding my arms uncomfortably behind my back on purpose.

The minutes ticked by. I wondered if they had called Pony yet. I guess this would do it. No more homework checking, no more call-ins, no more of him pretending to be my buddy or something. Why was he even bothering? He must have known that I'd get taken away at some point, or that I'd go so far over the line that he wouldn't want me within two miles of his house. I just wished it had been something I had actually done, something that was one of my own legitimate screw-ups…

I started wondering what he would think of me. I didn't care. I knew, anyway. He would think I was a stupid little brainless waste of time. That's what I would think, with the information he was getting. I kicked the table leg. I don't care. All of his damn rules, and hovering over me like I was a criminal. Well, OK, that's a bad analogy, considering I was standing in an interrogation room with handcuffs on. It wasn't my fault, though. Not really. I couldn't tell him that, though. I couldn't tell anyone. Even in the heat of the room, a shiver ran down my spine.

I couldn't wait until I was the adult; no real worries, you make the rules, and you can be the jerk that tells other people what to do.

I almost started to wish Darry was there, and then felt sick with shame at the idea of him seeing me like this. I didn't even want to think about how disappointed he would be. I was feeling nauseous all over again, and not from the handcuffs.

At least I didn't care what Pony thought. And at least he wasn't my father, or Ray, hauling me home to beat on me or…I stopped there, before I could think about what Ray would have done to me. Pony would just sign the papers out front, have them send me off to the group home, or to juvie (I guess depending on how serious the cops took that little bag of weed), and he'd be done with me. He could just move on with his life without me in the way. I don't know why he took me home to begin with, he should've just got a puppy or something. At least it would have probably been nice to him, where I couldn't be. Maybe he was just trying to get in some practice to have his own kids.

I half leaned against the cool wall behind me, feeling like my chest was caving in from the heat and the nausea. It was almost getting hard to breathe.

I started wondering stupidly what we would have been having for dinner; or, rather, what _I_ would have been having for dinner; the two of them weren't going anywhere. Melissa wasn't a great cook, but she had potential. Beat the hell out of anything my own mother ever put in front of me. I think Pony was actually the better cook of the two of them, but he usually just did his cooking on the weekends since he got home from work later. Sometimes he'd make a chocolate cake during the week, though. That dude really likes chocolate. And cigarettes. Talk about your basic addict.

Melissa's been getting on him about cutting back on the cigarettes, and he's been a real grouch. Kind of funny, since he keeps trying to be nice, even though he looks like he wants to rip someone's head off. It's the stupid little things that do it, too, and I don't even think he realizes it. Like, I could tell him I just dropped an open gallon of pink paint on his car, and it'd roll off of him like water off a duck; but, man, you clank your spoon around in your cereal bowl too much, and he's practically tearing his hair out. I really got him the other day. We were both sitting at the dinner table – I was doing homework and he was writing out bills or something – and I started clicking my retractable pen in and out. It wasn't intentional, until I saw the effect it was having on Pony. So I kept doing it. It was ten teeth gritting, fist clenching minutes later that he finally grabbed the pen out of my hand and hurled it across the room. Didn't say a word, either, just kept writing out his bills. I can be a real ass sometimes, I know. I can't believe Pony and Melissa have kept me around as long as they have. Well, after today they won't have to put up with someone making them crazy any more. After today, they'd think I had been doing, or dealing, drugs right under their noses. After today, I'd be lucky if Pony didn't cross to the other side of the street when he saw me coming. After today…we might never even see each other again.

My throat started feeling tight, and I tried to swallow around the lump that had formed as my vision blurred. What the hell! I cursed, and mentally called myself every name in the book – girl, wuss, pansy, stupid little moron Nancy-boy…I don't care what he thinks about me. He's just the guy who's house I was living in until he saw what a big mistake he made bringing me home.

The door opened. Finally. I started to lean forward, until I felt those cuffs pulling at me again. The cop from earlier came in, the one who had pulled me aside and tossed me in this room. Pony walked in right behind him. What was he doing in here? I wasn't expecting to see him. I wasn't expecting _him_ to see _me_.

Why can't I look at him?

**Pony's POV**

Officer Franks led me into a small room with a table, three chairs, a "mirror", and Vic. He was half-slumped against the opposite wall, looking like he was suffocating. As soon as he spotted me, he shifted his gaze and hung his head. It gave me the surprising impression that he was feeling remorseful.

"I'll leave you two alone until you're through," Franks said. "Take your time, we don't need the room right now," he told me under his breath on the way out.

I focused my attention on Vic. His dark brown hair was waving off to the side as he hung his head. Leaning against the wall with his too-big t-shirt rumpled and half untucked from his jeans, hands behind his back, breathing in helpless gasps like a fish out of water, he looked younger than fourteen, which was unusual. Even with his small size, probably due in some part to the nearly empty pantry he had grown up with, he usually had a tough don't-mess-with-me demeanor that made him seem older than he was. Right now he just looked small, young, defeated, and ashamed.

He started to move one of his arms as if to pull his hand forward, like he'd forgotten he was handcuffed, then froze and paled slightly when the cuffs jingled. I knew by his stance and by the desperate aura that surrounded him that right now, I could question him about anything on God's green earth and he would tell me whatever I wanted to hear; hell, he would probably get down on the floor and kiss my shoes if I asked him to, if he knew it would convince me to take those cuffs off of him. God only knew what sort of controlling garbage the kid had been put through in his life by people who were bigger and stronger than him.

I was already aware that Vic had a mortal fear of duct tape. I had been on my way toward the back door a few weeks ago with a roll of it in my hand; Vic had barely been able to hide his panic when he saw me coming toward him with that tape, and then he'd nearly cried when I walked past him and he realized it had nothing to do with him. I doubt he even caught that I had picked up on it, but like I've said, having grown up in my neighborhood, I see things in people that they think they're concealing. The look I had glimpsed in his eyes that day matched the one I remembered in Johnny's when he had seen the rings on Bob Sheldon's fingers, the night Johnny had killed Bob.

Yeah, I could have gotten more out of Vic under the humiliating influence of the cuffs, but I wasn't about to be a prick about it, especially when I had the key in my pocket. I couldn't leave him standing there like that any more than I could have done it to one of my own brothers. It almost made me hurt just looking at him.

I walked around the table to Vic, who seemed to shrink a little lower as I approached. "Turn around," I told him. He did, without question, and I removed the handcuffs. Vic took a couple of deep breaths and pawed wildly at his nose.

"So whose was it?" I didn't see any need to beat around the bush; we both knew what we were doing there.

"Mine," he answered, barely audible.

I didn't believe him for a second. "What did you use to buy it?" He hadn't come to us with any money, and I hadn't started giving him an allowance yet, just what he needed when he went out.

He shrugged. "I had some money. Jake owed me," he added too quickly. His normal volume had returned, along with a touch of the annoyed boredom that typically oozed through his voice when he was answering my questions.

"How much did you pay for it?" That one threw him off even more; he stammered for a few seconds before answering. "Twenty bucks."

"Isn't that a lot for that amount of grass?" I had no idea, really, but I was betting he didn't either, and he had no reason to think that I didn't know exactly what I was talking about.

"Um…no. I mean…it was good stuff. Not that cheap kind." He was visibly flustered and obviously lying. Who was he protecting? I was almost certain, even after only two months, that Vic would never smoke pot. He needs to be in control, always, and he won't relinquish the upper hand to anyone – or any_thing_. He wasn't dealing it either, or he wouldn't have had such a problem with my question about the cost.

I clearly wasn't going to get a straight and honest answer out of him right now, so I didn't see the point in fooling around any more. "No more drugs of any kind. Not in your locker, not in our house, not in your pockets, not buried in the back yard – nowhere. Clear?" Vic nodded. "Good. You're on call-in punishment for the next week and a half – and that includes this weekend _and_ the following weekend. Let's go home now."

For the first time since I had entered the room, Vic looked me in the eye. "Home?"

"Yeah, home." Where did he think we were going? Maybe Officer Franks hadn't explained. "I know that cop who brought you in here. When he saw that you were my kid, he pulled you aside and gave me a call. You're not getting booked. Go ahead and put your jacket on. We might as well get home and start dinner, Melissa has that meeting after school." I had called Liss to let her know I was headed over here, so she wouldn't be expecting Vic to be waiting in the high school cafeteria where she normally picked him up.

I realized Vic hadn't moved. He was still staring at me in astonishment. "You're taking me back home?" he asked.

"Yeah. Did you want to spend the night here?"

After staring through me for several seconds, Vic climbed out of whatever mental foxhole he had retreated to, and took his jacket off the back of a chair. "Let's get out of here, then. Let's go home."

-

**Pony's POV**

It was about 8:30 that night when Vic plopped down next to me on the couch where I was reading a book. He had an armful of papers and books, which he dumped in my lap. "Homework," I said rhetorically.

"Yeah," he replied, starting up the nightly ritual. "Algebra is on top. We had to do all of the even numbered problems, my sheet is in the page where the problems are. Biology, we had to answer the first three questions at the end of the chapter. English, she wants us to read the first chapter of that book-thing and write our thoughts on it. History, no homework. We had a sub – Mr. Mathews."

I looked at him blankly.

"You know," Vic clarified, "Mr. Mathews. That guy. That friend of yours."

It still took a couple more seconds for it to click. "Two-Bit! Yeah, sure! How'd it go with him?" Two-Bit had finally graduated from high school, then went through a few years of part-time and temporary jobs, like delivering furniture and driving a tow truck, before he realized that he could actually go back to school and goof off for real, without even getting into any trouble. He filled out the paperwork, got approved, and has been a substitute teacher ever since. He gets paid by the day, so he can refuse a call if he has other plans, but I don't think he has ever said no. He's at Melissa's elementary school every so often, and apparently the little kids love him.

"He was OK," Vic answered. "He showed us how to play some weird variation of poker. I don't know, I think he was making up the rules as he went along. That guy is nuts." I couldn't argue with him there. "He said to tell you hi."

I started paging through Vic's homework. I only checked a couple of the algebra problems. The point was that he had it all done, not that he had gotten all of the answers right. That was up to him to figure out.

I scanned through the biology homework next, and found myself getting wrapped up in the chapter for a while.

English was the last assignment I took a look at. The 'book-thing' that Vic had mentioned was exactly that – not really a book, just a stack of paper that someone had bound with staples on one side; the text was copied; the number '17/100' was printed at the bottom. It looked like it was about a hundred years old, with dog-eared pages and scribbles and stains all over it. I read the title: "The Other Side of the Tracks." What was he supposed to do? Read the first chapter. I opened the first page, which turned out to be just a dedication and a note, but I read it anyway.

_Note: All names have been changed for the privacy of those involved._

_To the Author: You have touched more lives than you will probably ever know, and more than I could possibly hope to, even as a teacher. Thank you for telling your story. David Syme_

"Hey, I had this guy for English!" I announced, apparently to no one. I looked up and realized that Vic had wandered off, probably to the kitchen for a snack. I shrugged and paged through the book-thing. After a minute or so I stopped. Something seemed familiar. I turned to the first chapter and felt my mouth drop open when I started to read the first line: "When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house…" It was my semester theme from my freshman year. Apparently Mr. Syme had typed it up and made, what, a hundred copies of it? I wondered how long it had been included as part of the English department's curriculum. I vaguely remembered Mr. Syme asking if I would mind if he passed it around, maybe made some copies of it. I hadn't really expected something quite so extensive. It really blew me away.

It suddenly occurred to me that the note had said the names had been changed. Curious, I paged through again until I found myself. "Polokid?" Oh man, Mr. Syme, what were you thinking? I guess he had to come up with something original, though – I probably put some reference in there about how different my name is; I don't remember, it's been a long time since I wrote it. I checked for my brothers. Snake and Harry. Snake – a little more of a predatory feel than Soda, but again, he had to come up with something original. At least for Darry he only had to change one letter. Harry was still pretty funny, though. Everyone else seemed to have normal names, like Sam and Jeff and Derek. Except Two-Bit. He had become Swiper. This was too much.

Finally, I got around to reading Vic's homework – his thoughts on the first chapter. _I thought that kid was really stupid for walking home from the movies by himself when he knew he could get jumped._ Nice. Maybe I shouldn't tell him it's about me. _I think his oldest brother should have beaten him up for being so dumb._ Darry would love this. _And why would anyone put grease in their hair? It's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of. The only thing that seemed realistic was how Polokid felt better when his one brother stuck up for him, and how his friends all came to help him when he was in trouble. I don't have any brothers, but if I did I would want them to watch my back for me. It bites when you're the only one looking out for yourself. That kid should appreciate his older brother more. Not everybody has one. Not everybody has a real family who keeps you no matter what you did. Some of us do. But not everybody._

So how many times did you all have to scratch your nose while reading Vic's POV? Hehehe!

Now, for the review thanks! By the way, for those of you wondering (did anyone notice?), the pun in the title of the chapter was completely intentional.

Fairlane: Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I had a feeling that was your review when I turned on the computer one morning and saw that an email had come through at 3am (I got your chapter 1 review at 4:50am). Hopefully chapter 3 filled in for you some of what's going on in Vic's head. I have to keep reading through the book, finding things the original characters say and mannerisms that seem to match them, to keep everyone in character; being ten years later, obviously certain things will be different, while some personality traits should still come through. I'm glad it seems to be working so far. I don't have plans right now for a love-interest for Vic, but if one does come in later on she won't be related to anyone. Thanks again, hope you liked chapter 3!

FoxFyre33: I'm glad you found it too! Good to hear you think I'm on the right path. No, I don't have Darry and Soda married yet; I thought it would be fun to bring in someone for each of them from the beginning of the relationship. I've got one in mind for Soda, and Darry's will be mentioned in the next chapter. No, I'm not putting in a random girl. Thanks for the compliment!

Kate: Wow, this was such a nice review! I'm glad you thought so highly of my story. As long as people keep reading, I'll keep writing, especially since I'm not going in a specific direction with this and keep coming up with more ideas. I guess I'll have to end it at the one-year juncture though, since at that point it would be "Eleven Years Later!"

BonnieBlackCat: Thanks so much for the review, I'm really glad you like the story and the believability of the characters. I have to keep paging through my book, hopefully that continues to work for me. No, no random love-interest girls popping in. Thanks again for the review, and I hope you liked chapter 3!

Scarlett7: Yeah, Vic's a little rough around the edges; part personality, part past environment. He'll get around to showing his true soul here and there, more often as it goes along. I felt like I needed to give some insight into Vic in chapter 3, hope it wasn't disappointing. Thanks again!

Volleyballlover: Thanks for the review and the thoughts! I have to admit, there's someone coming in a few chapters down the line, but not a love-interest. Hope you like her anyway! And keep the thoughts coming, I'm always up for advice, especially since I'm making this up as I'm going along, no real grand plan. Enjoy!

Kaz456: Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I'm hoping I can keep up with expectations! Just keep letting me know if it's good or if it's getting sour, I definitely take constructive criticism seriously. Thanks again!

Tessie26: Glad you're enjoying. No, Darry and Soda are still free-swinging bachelors. I've got their women in mind though, they'll be coming along shortly (Darry's is mentioned in the next chapter, in fact).

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks! Darry is one of my personal favorites, I think he's a fun character to try and figure out. I hope you like Two-Bit's occupation; he wasn't actually in this chapter, but I had to at least mention him.

Tens: I'm glad you liked the direction it took (I'd be interested to hear where you were expecting it to go). I have a real-life role analogy in mind with the Darry/Vic/Ponyboy relationship; it'll be interesting if anyone else picks up on it over the next several chapters. It's good you're looking forward to more, because I keep writing more (for now, anyway). Hope you liked chapter 3!


	4. One of Those Days

**Author's Note**: As you get toward the end of the chapter, keep in mind – Ponyboy has not had a cigarette in almost two days. Nicotine withdrawal is an ugly thing!

**Disclaimer**: The Outsiders is owned by S.E. Hinton. I made everyone else up (don't they seem so real, though! hehe).

**Dedication**: This one goes out to my awesome cousin Kev and my stellar cousin Brit, who are both working hard and aiming high so we can all sleep better at night. Love ya, Grandpop would be proud!

This chapter is one of those where I am trying to get from A to C, and we can't skip B. Sorry, but I can't rewrite the alphabet. Hope you all enjoy!

**Pony's POV**

I gripped the steering wheel like it would have escaped if I'd loosened up as I tried not to think about the day I'd just had. I was just happy to be going home finally; it was after seven, damp and raining. When the red Thunderbird cut me off, I pounded my fist on the dash and wished I hadn't smoked my last cigarette of the week the previous morning. It had been one of those days, and I hoped it would start going uphill soon. At least it was Friday.

Steve had called me just after nine in the morning to let me know that one of his waitresses was out for the fourth day in a row, and hadn't bothered to call in this morning. Normally the goings-on in his diner would have nothing to do with me, but this was a girl that he had hired on my behalf. Tracey was nineteen, and had been left caring for her three younger siblings early in the year when they'd lost their mother to cancer. The father had taken off years ago and was nowhere to be found. Steve was letting me know what was going on before social services was officially notified that Tracey had been negligent with her employer.

I arrived at the house about half an hour later. It was a run-down little place, with chipping paint, wobbly steps, and a broken doorbell. Darry had fixed the leaky roof over the summer at a severely reduced cost. He hadn't even wanted Tracey to pay him at all, but respected her pride and allowed her to cover the cost of the materials.

I knocked on the door. Ron, the eleven-year-old, peered through at me a couple of minutes later, then opened the door and greeted me with a smile. They were all nice kids. The little ones were just five and seven years old. "Hey Ron, where's Tracey?"

"Ron, who is it?" came a tired voice from inside the house.

"It's the social worker," he answered.

I heard some scrambling around, and something dropped onto the floor, before Tracey pulled Ron out of the way and stood in front of me. She wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked hideous – hair unkempt, eyes watery with dark circles under them, pale, nose red and raw, wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms – in short, she looked like hell.

"Hi, Tracey," I greeted her. "Steve called me this morning to tell me you haven't been at work. I called the school, and they said the kids have been out all week. What's going on?"

"We're sick," she croaked. Clearly.

"I need to come in and check things out," I told her, and saw the panic cross her face before she stood out of my way.

The living room was a disaster. There were toys, pieces of toys, papers, books, newspapers, crayons, dirty bowls, and crumpled tissues scattered all over the floor and furniture. One of the kids was lying on one side of the couch huddled under a blanket. I put my clipboard down and headed for the kitchen. The sink and counters were loaded with dirty dishes, crumbs, pieces of food, empty soup cans, medicine bottles, and…a cockroach. The refrigerator was almost empty, containing only about a nano-gallon of milk, an egg, two slices of cheese, and your standard condiments, like ketchup and mustard. The cabinets weren't much fuller. I found a bread bag with three slices of moldy bread; a can of beans, an almost-empty jar of peanut butter, and some canned vegetables. I didn't even bother with the bedrooms.

I walked back out to the living room. Tracey dropped down onto the couch in defeat, put her forehead in her hands, and waited for me to tell her what time I would be coming to take her family away from her. I sighed. No one should have to go through something like this. I remembered all too well the fear that overtook my brothers and I sometimes in the beginning, when it would feel like we had made a horrible mistake that would convince the state that Darry was completely incapable of taking care of us.

I startled Tracy when I put my hand on her forehead. She felt at least as warm as she looked, and her teeth were chattering. "Go to bed, Tracey," I told her. "Take the little ones and go to bed. I'll have Ron with me." Ron appeared to be getting over whatever bug they had. He was pale and a little shaky, but no fever, and he seemed at least a little upbeat. Tracey looked up at me in bewilderment; I watched silent tears roll down her face. "Go on. Go get some sleep. We'll be back in a couple of hours."

She didn't ask any questions. I carried her sister to one of the bedrooms and laid her on the double bed with the little brother. Tracey crawled in between them and pulled up the covers.

"Let's go, kid." Ron followed me out to my car, visibly happy to be getting out of the house.

We went to the grocery store first. It took an hour, but we left with a cart full of basic needs – milk, bread, eggs, juice, soup, cheese, canned fruit, frozen vegetables, chicken, canned tuna, canned ham, etc. I let Ron pick out a box of cookies, too, figuring it probably wasn't something that their budget allowed. Melissa and I weren't swimming in money either, especially after buying the house, but there was at least enough left over to buy someone a week's worth of food and a box of cookies on top of it.

After the grocery store we headed up to the diner. One of the waitresses went back to get Steve when we arrived.

"Pony!" Steve grinned when he saw me, and nodded at Ron. "What's going on?"

"This is Tracey's brother, Ron," I introduced. "Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah, sure. Mike, bring the kid a milkshake," Steve told the guy behind the counter. Ron sat down on one of the stools to have his milkshake, and Steve led me over to an empty booth. "What's the deal with Tracey?"

"She's sick. They all are. Looks like the flu or something. Is it going to be a problem if she's not here for the next couple of days? I don't see her getting much better even by tomorrow."

Steve shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Let me know if she needs a small advance to cover her bills. She's a good worker." It really pays to have connections. Steve knows the score, he knows how easy it is to slip behind through no fault of your own, and he takes care of the people who depend on him. I used to hate him. Then…I don't know. I guess we just grew up.

"How's Fizz doing?" I asked.

"Sick. Everybody's getting this flu. I was up half the night with him." I noticed for the first time how tired Steve looked.

"What about Shelly?"

He rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding? It was enough getting her out of bed in the middle of the night to get him a bottle when he was a baby. It's not her 'thing'," he finished bitingly.

I had to hand it to Steve – he didn't get along with the woman he had married, but no way was he turning his home into the one he had grown up in. The primary reason he gave in to his wife so frequently was to avoid hassling with her in front of their son. Fizz was a happy, smiling six-year-old, and the best thing that could have ever happened to Steve. He was born while Sodapop was in Vietnam, and although Steve and I were getting along by that point, even going out and doing things together sometimes, he was lonely; Fizz helped filled that void in his life, and brought him joy like I'd never seen in Steve in all the years I've known him.

I should probably explain how Steve's son got his nickname. The night Shelly went to the hospital to have the baby, Steve had come to our house to pace and tap and fidget. Darry had been about ready to strangle him, and finally just went to bed early. I stayed up with Steve until the call came around 2:30am, letting us know that he had a son. After a celebration smoke for us and a beer for Two-Bit (he had actually been celebrating most of the night, come to think of it, and was on his fifth or sixth beer at least) I asked Steve what they were naming the kid. "Steven Junior," he announced proudly. "What are you calling him?" I had asked, thinking that having two Steves in the house would be confusing. It hadn't occurred to him. "How about calling him by his initials?" I suggested. "S.R.?" he asked doubtfully. "You think we should call him S.R.?" Two-Bit, who hadn't been paying the least bit of attention, looked over at us. "You're calling the kid scissor?" he asked in astonishment. Steve and I glanced at each other, and Steve rolled his eyes. "No, not scissor…" he began, but Two-Bit cut him off. "Why not use Fiskars? You know, the people who make those orange-handled scissors." Fiskars. Can you believe Two-Bit? He continued, "I'd shorten it to Fis, though; naming a kid after a pair of scissors is a little odd, Steve." Two-Bit sat there practicing with the name 'Fis' for a few minutes. "Come here, Fis. Get me my shoes, Fis. Hey Fis, tell your mom to bring me a beer." He shook his head. "No, don't work. Too hard to say." He scratched his head. "Fizz would work, though. Yeah, Fizz. Good work, Steve, I think you've come up with an excellent name for your son." So at the tender age of one hour, Steve's firstborn had a nickname that had come about through five iterations of his own name, starting with Steve and ending with Fizz. It sounded dumb at the time, but for some reason it stuck, and now I can't imagine calling him anything else. It fits him, too – with his energy and spunk, he's one of the most effervescent kids I know.

After Ron had finished his milkshake we headed back to his house to put the food away. He helped out by straightening up and vacuuming the living room while I made a phone call to Mrs. Baxter, a woman from Melissa's mom's church who organized other church members in preparing meals for, and otherwise assisting, those community members who were in need. I had called her once before; they were nice people, and you didn't need to be a member of the church for them to help you.

After making arrangements with Mrs. Baxter I set about cleaning up the kitchen. It took a good couple of hours, and by the time I was done Ron had fallen asleep on the couch. I snuck into the bedroom and found Tracey staring at the ceiling.

"Are you taking them away?" she asked.

"No," I answered simply, sitting on the edge of the bed. "There's food in the refrigerator and in the cabinets, and a couple of women will be stopping by in a little while with some dinner. Don't fight it," I added, seeing her expression harden, "and don't think of it as a handout – you can join their band of helpers when things are looking up a little if you want."

"Is that your official Social Services recommendation?" she asked with a slight smile.

I grinned back at her. "No. As far as you're concerned, I was here for twenty minutes and everything was under control. Your job is waiting for you when you get better, by the way. I talked to Steve. Let him know if you need an advance."

Tracey crawled out of the bed when I stood up, and followed me into the living room. "Thanks, Mr. Curtis. I'll pay you back for the food."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I've been there. Just get some rest and keep taking care of these kids. You're doing a great job. Oh," I finished, "and don't call me Mr. Curtis. It's Pony. Mr. Curtis was my dad." Tracey smiled and nodded, and I left. It was hard to believe she was only five years younger than me.

By the time I got back to my office it was after three o'clock. I still had a pile of folders and a stack of paperwork to fill out, and none of it could wait until Monday. Sighing, I sank down into my chair and got to work.

The paperwork wouldn't have taken too long on its own, but on top of it I had to make several phone calls pertaining to the paperwork, and got stuck talking to possibly every idiot who had ever set foot in the social services branch of the Oklahoma government.

Four hours later my hair was sticking out in all directions, my phone cord was wrapped up so tightly I had to lean down across the desk, and my teeth were ground a few millimeters shorter. On top of it I was starving, having skipped lunch and worked straight through dinner time.

Finally, I was pulling into the driveway at home. I swerved just in time to miss our trash can, which Melissa had obviously forgotten to take back to the side of the house, then stepped out of the car and narrowly avoided tripping over Vic's skateboard, which I rolled to the side. It went straight under the bushes. Good, maybe he would remember to take better care of his things when he couldn't find half of them.

When I stepped through the front door I tripped across two pairs of shoes, which I kicked out of the way, on my way to the coat closet. Heading into the living room I picked up the pile of newspapers that had slid off of the hall table, separated them from the important mail that had gotten mixed in, dropped the whole mess, and finally gave up in exasperation.

I turned the corner to find Melissa stretched out on the sofa, paging through a magazine. There were some papers and shoes on the floor, a dirty cup on the coffee table, and miscellaneous odds and ends scattered about because nobody had bothered to take them back to the rooms they belonged in. Melissa looked up and flashed me a big smile as I came in, which I didn't return.

"How was work?" she asked, sobering a little.

"Same old thing. Where's Vic?"

"I let him go to the football game with Darry and Jenn," she answered. Who?

"Who?" I said out loud.

"You know, Darry. Your brother." She was trying to be funny, and I just wasn't in the mood. "You know what I meant," I snapped, picking papers up off the floor. I was starting to feel like a maid, after my house call at Tracey's in the morning.

"I told you about Jenn," Melissa said. "Remember? That woman he's seeing? I saw them at the grocery store last weekend…" she trailed off.

"Oh, right." I had no idea what she was talking about. I had no doubt she had actually told me all about it, but probably while I was reading something. Can't she wait until I'm not reading to tell me things?

"Vic was supposed to be on punishment this weekend," I told her, knowing she already knew that and annoyed that she had undermined my authority. Vic was not the type of kid you wanted working you against each other.

"He's been so good the last week and a half," she said, which was true, and which I had also noticed, "I just thought tonight would be a good night to let him go out for a while. He even drew me a picture in art class. Are you mad?"

"No," I lied, even more irritated that she had fallen for his obvious manipulation. "Is there any dinner?" I asked, changing the subject before things got ugly.

"I put yours in the oven. I'll come in and sit with you." I knew she was trying to keep things smoothed over. She could probably tell there was something wrong, and was trying to salvage the evening before it completely fell apart. I wish I had worked with her.

I went into the kitchen to get my dinner, moving some of the dirty dishes off the counter and into the sink so there was room to get something to drink. About two days worth of dishes were already piled in the sink. I opened the oven and pulled out my foil-covered plate of dinner, took the foil off, sat down across the table from Melissa, and started eating. We sat there in silence for a few minutes while I ate.

"The chicken is dry," I finally commented. I can't stand dry chicken.

"Yeah, I know, sorry. I left it in too long." More silence.

"What's wrong?" she asked after a minute.

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?" she persisted.

"Yes," I snapped, "everything's fine."

"You seem angry."

I shook my head. "Just let it go." I couldn't shake the frustratingly tense feeling that had overtaken me. I wanted to throw something.

"So then you are angry."

"I'm not angry!" I shot back.

"Then why are you yelling?" she pointed out.

"Because you won't stop bugging me!" I shouted. We've never argued before. Disagreements, yes. Arguments, no.

Melissa was starting to look more angry than concerned. "If there's something bothering you, just say it," she told me, voice quavering slightly.

"I've had a busy day. And it didn't end with work," I added bitingly.

She picked up on my insinuation immediately. "I'm sorry about the house, Pony, I just didn't get to it." I remembered her lounging on the couch flipping through a magazine. Why is this bothering me, I kept thinking? "I'm tired too when I get home," she continued.

"You get home two hours ahead of me," I pointed out, "four today."

"It isn't easy, Pony," Melissa complained. "Making sure Vic starts his homework, getting dinner started, and I'm tired. You aren't exactly perfect," she finally snapped in frustration.

"At least I could clean a house and cook a goddamned chicken by the time I was FOURTEEN!" I exploded, standing up and letting the chair fall to the floor behind me. If I had reached across the table and slapped Liss across the face I wouldn't have been able to get her to look the way she was looking at that moment. And it probably would have hurt her less.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. No, that's not right, I could think alright. '_I hate myself, I hate myself_'…it was the only thing running through my head as we stared at each other in stunned silence for an instant. It was our first fight, and I had started it.

I had to get away from her. I just needed five minutes. Five minutes to pull myself out of the downward spiral I was spinning through. Five minutes to breathe and think and stop myself. It turned out to be the last time I would ever think that I needed an extra five minutes before telling someone how sorry I was and how much I loved them.

I turned and hurried to our bedroom, slamming the door behind me and leaning against it with my eyes closed. After a couple of minutes I felt, more than heard, the 'whumph' of the pressure change in the house when the front door was opened, and the thump when it closed. She was probably going to her sister's, about twenty minutes away. I had actually driven my wife out of our home.

A peculiar scent finally caused me to open my eyes. I let out a low groan and wanted to die.

There were lit candles on the dresser, the nightstand, and the chest of drawers. The bed was made, the floor was vacuumed, a skimpy satin nightgown was laid out on Melissa's pillow, and soft music emanated from the radio on the nightstand. I have never felt so horribly guilty in my life. Liss had come home and cleaned and prepared our bedroom, then she had sent Vic over to Darry's so we could have some time alone. I felt sick with shame.

Eventually I wandered back out to the living room and sank onto the couch. I wanted to wait up for Melissa. I needed to talk to her. I had to tell her she was my friend, my life, my world, and I couldn't live without her. I desperately needed her to know how sorry I was, how much it had not been her fault…I loved her…I needed her…I needed to take that look out of her eyes, the look that kept forcing itself to the front of my mind…

-

I nearly fell to the floor stumbling off the couch in the dark, not even quite aware of where my legs were taking me in such a hurry until the kitchen phone rang again.

"Hello?" I answered groggily, my mind still trying to pull itself from sleep.

"Is this Mr. Curtis?" Mr. Curtis? That was me.

"Yes, it is."

"This is Marie Maxwell," she continued, and in its still-confused state my brain scrambled through its files, grasping for who this woman was and coming up empty, even as I tried on some other dimension to comprehend why I was standing in the dark kitchen and what time of what day it was.

"I'm a nurse here in Tulsa Regional Hospital's emergency room."

Everything stopped, every sound, every movement, every attempt to come out of my sleep-induced stupor. The phone trembled slightly against my ear as my hand started to shake, because I knew what was coming next.

"We have your wife here."

Aaahhhh! Stop throwing rotten vegetables at me!

Sorry to end there, but it was either that or make everyone wait until next week to get the whole thing at once. And I'm getting accustomed to these Friday updates…

Now for my reviewers:

Fairlane: Your story is on my favorites list, so I already knew your emails were coming from the other side of the world! You really get my story and characters well, I'm glad. Hope you liked chapter 4, I had to split it so I could get something posted sooner. Chapter 5 should be up soon.

Ktk2005: Thanks for the compliments! I'm glad you like the story and the part about Pony's essay. That's going to crop up again here and there.

Bleezie: Glad you enjoyed! I'll just keep going then…

BonnieBlackCat: Thanks so much for the compliment! I'm really enjoying writing this story, hopefully it keeps delivering for the readers.

goldengreaser: Yes, that is Pony's essay. Vic has a lot of issues, but he's getting there. He's got a lot to figure out, and trust can be a fragile thing.

Ale Curtis-Carter: Wow, capital letters and everything! I'm glad you liked it so much. I have a few ideas about how Vic figures out the story is about Pony, but we're not quite there yet…

Ciderbrat: Glad you like it! Sorry about the itchy nose! I'll probably continue up to about the one-year point, we'll see how it goes.

lil librada: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! Thanks for the compliments, too! I'm trying to keep everyone in character – chapter 4 was a little different with Ponyboy (I know people who've quit smoking, it's no fun!).

Tensleep: Thanks so much for the review! I appreciate the specifics, too, it's good to know what's working and if the things that I liked the most stood out to others as well. I'm really glad you liked Vic's point of view; it was somewhat of a balancing act to progress him from angry little punk who doesn't need anyone to realizing (to his horror and surprise) that he is getting attached to his new family, all in just a couple of pages. Goes along with 'you don't know what you've got until you think it's gone.'

Kaz456: Thanks! I'm glad the part about Vic reading Ponyboy's story for English went over well, I wasn't sure if it would. Enjoy!

Tessie26: Wow, I love your take on this story. I was trying to get Vic to be seen as a representation of a lot of people, I guess it worked! As far as your question, I have some ideas that will crop up eventually. Keep reading! Chapter 5 should be up soon.


	5. Three Feet From Gone

**Author's Note**: In case anyone is wondering, and since it doesn't fit smoothly into the storyline at this point – Ponyboy decided not to tell Vic just yet that the story he is reading for English is about him, feeling that Vic would relate to the "characters" more if he doesn't know that they are the same adults who are surrounding him. It will come up again later in the story.

**Disclaimer**: The Outsiders is owned by S.E. Hinton. Awesome woman.

**Dedication**: My dedication is at the end of the chapter. Don't read it until the end, or you won't get it. An acknowledgement, though - I don't think he's read any of this story, but Tens's brother, Jhon - I was wavering between two engine problems until I read your author profile that goes with Curve Balls; you said something that put the idea for the line about the carburetor in my head. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter 5 Three Feet From Gone  
**

**Soda's POV**

"Man, the garage looks huge from here!" I called out. I was laying on the hard cold floor looking up at the ceiling that was about a mile away, then to each side, where the far walls looked like it would take a week to get to them.

"Now you know how all your mice feel," Steve replied from under the hood of the car next to me.

"I keep telling you, there ain't no mice in here. Too many cats out back. And they leave the little headless corpses on my doorstep." I actually put food out back for the cats, just to make sure they stay and keep the mice away. All I need is some rodent making a nest in someone's tailpipe, or crawling up into an engine and chewing up the wires.

From the corner of my eye I caught a movement; looking over and seeing the small shoe sticking out from behind the tires stacked in the corner, I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.

"Where could that kid be?" I said loudly. Barely stifled giggles followed from the corner.

"I know," I continued, not moving from my spot on the floor, "he's in the toolbox!" More giggles, louder this time. "No, he's not in there," I concluded, picking a wrench off the floor and clanking it against the toolbox that was almost out of my reach.

What a damn pathetic way to be spending a Friday night. Everyone I usually hung with was busy, though. Maybe I'll head out and hunt up some action on my own later. Darry had Vic out at the high school football game. I could always go over to his place later and bug the hell out of the kid. I know he'll warm up to me, he already has somewhat, but until then it amuses me to irritate him. Maybe that's just because he's about the only person I know who reacts to me like that.

"Find me!" an annoyed excited little voice barked out.

"Uh…I've got him now! He's in the drawer!" Fizz broke into hysterics at that one. Little kids crack me up. How could he think I'm that dumb that I don't know where he is, with all the noise he's making?

I rolled over and crawled quietly to the tires. "I've got you!" I hollered, grasping both feet and pulling Fizz out from his hiding spot. He laid there on the floor in front of me laughing for a minute, and then looked disappointed. "You weren't supposed to find me!" he complained.

I scooped Fizz up and tossed him upside-down over my shoulder. "Steve, have you seen your kid around anywhere?" I spun back and forth a couple of times. Fizz was back to laughing like a fool.

"No, but if you lose him in here somewhere, you get to keep him," Steve answered, not looking up. It really helped his nerves to come and work on the cars sometimes. Hell, it helped my nerves, when things got busy. I hated that he was married to that sorry excuse for a chick. Fizz was the only good thing he'd gotten out of the deal, though at the time he'd thought it would be having a kid that would ruin his life.

"Do you want something to drink?" Steve offered, heading for the office.

"I want candy!" Fizz announced, twisting to get down. I set him on the floor and pulled a handful of change out of my pocket. "Don't tell your mom," I warned, pouring the coins into his hands and watching half of them land on the floor.

I heard the phone in the office ring. "Steve, grab that," I yelled.

By the time I got into the office, Steve was off the phone. "You need to go out and get a car that's broke down," he told me. I've got a tow-truck at the garage that belongs to a guy across town, Ralph, who has a towing and auto-body shop. When his guys are all busy and he needs a pickup, he gives me a call; he pays me on commission, and I get some extra business.

"Did you write it all down?" I asked.

"No, I figured you would just read my mind," he replied, shaking a piece of paper in my face.

"Thanks. You gonna be here when I get back?"

"No. Fizz has to get to bed soon. He'll be bouncing off the walls if he stays up too long and gets that second wind." Steve headed back into the garage to finish up while I went around the side to get the truck.

It wasn't too late, not long after dinnertime, but there weren't too many people out on the roads. It was a crappy night to be driving around anyway, with the rain. It had been coming down in buckets earlier.

I glanced down at Steve's directions again, then turned off on a side street to make the shortest possible run. This wasn't exactly what I had been hoping for when I wanted action, but hey, a buck is a buck.

I slowed down as I got close to where I figured to find the car. The guy behind me sped around me all irritated-like, so I smiled at him as he passed and gave him the finger.

Ah, there it is. As I pulled ahead of the car and parked in front of it, I noticed there was a young woman sitting in the driver's seat. It was a green BMW Bavaria, five years old. Popular car with the rich folks.

The chick was sitting there reading a book as I approached the car. I guess she didn't notice me, so I tapped on the window. She nearly hit the roof, and dropped her book, then looked at me like I was an axe murderer. So I smiled at her. What else can you do when someone looks at you like you're gonna rip them apart?

Finally she rolled the window down about a half-inch. "Can I help you?" This girl was too much. And that line was just too easy.

"Yeah, I'm afraid my tow truck broke down in front of you. Do you think you could give me a lift?" I grinned at her again. She looked at me like I was nuts, then looked out the front windshield, and it finally dawned on her that I was there to get her car. Her eyes got wider and she looked like she felt pretty damn silly.

"Pop the hood," I told her. "Maybe I can figure out what's wrong here." She did, so I went around and took a look.

"Turn the key," I shouted. It cranked, but didn't start. "Are you sure there's gas in the tank?" You wouldn't believe how many people run it dry and don't even realize.

"I just filled it," she called back.

I pulled off the distributor cap; rotor looked alright. Then I checked the carburetor. "Pump the gas pedal," I called out. Nothing.

I slammed the hood down, and then walked around to the passenger side so I wouldn't get run over by some idiot. I tapped on the window. She leaned over the seat and looked at me. "Can I come in?" I finally asked. This girl was paranoid. She reached over and unlocked the door, so I got in and sank into the plush leather seat.

She took a closer look at me, then turned a little red when she realized that her mouth was hanging open and she was staring at me. I get that a lot. Ponyboy does, too, but once they see that ring on his finger it's like he's got an electric fence around him.

"Do you know what's wrong with it?" she asked. I was finally getting a better look at her, too. She wasn't bad looking, but nothing to write home about either – light brown wavy hair cut about to her shoulders, brown eyes, nice classy clothes.

I shook my head to her question. "I think I know what's wrong, but I'll have to get it back to the garage to take a better look. It isn't something I can fix here. You can go ahead and sit up in the truck while I get her hooked up."

She looked at me strangely. "You want me to sit in the truck?"

"You can stay in here if you want, but you might be more comfortable with some heat, and sitting so it's not like you're taking off in an airplane." This girl was really too much. She got that look again, like she just realized that she'd said something goofy. Then she smiled.

It was the most real smile I think I have ever seen. No pretense, no ulterior motives, no distractions, no implied separation of social status. Just me sitting there in my greasy pants and shirt on her leather Beamer seat, and she smiled at me like she was sitting next to her best friend.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's been a long night, and I had to walk back to that payphone on the corner, and…I'm sorry. You must think I am so rude." She really looked like that was what she thought, not just what she thought I would think.

"No, it's fine," I assured her. Man, she had a nice smile. "Let's just get back to the garage and I'll see if I can figure out what's wrong with this puppy."

After we got back to the garage the girl, whose name I didn't even know yet, I realized, sat in the office while I poked around under the hood. It didn't take long to figure out the problem. I strolled into the office to give her the diagnosis. She looked up and smiled when I walked in. That girl was looking cuter by the minute.

"Do you know what's wrong?" she asked.

"Well," I started, "The jigwig was almost out of fluid. And you'll need to get that fossenflopper replaced before it catches on fire and lights up the whole engine like a firecracker."

The girl looked startled. She didn't have a clue. I used to be able to get Ponyboy like that, until he learned to dismiss everything I said when I was bored.

I smiled at her. She looked confused, then skeptical. "Did you just make that up?" she asked hesitantly. Either she didn't want to insult me, or she didn't want to look stupid.

I laughed. "Yeah. Sorry, it's been a long and boring day." I figured she would get mad, but she laughed, too. "I don't know much about cars, except where to put the key and how to drive them," she explained. She had a really nice personality.

"Okay, seriously," I told her, "you need a new fuel pump. Luckily it wasn't the carburetor."

"Why?"

"I don't rebuild carburetors. Too messy." I grinned at her again, and this time she knew better than to take me seriously.

"You know, I didn't even tell you my name yet," she said suddenly. "I'm Melanie."

This would get her going again for sure. I extended my hand. "Sodapop Curtis." Like I expected, she eyed me suspiciously. "Really. That's my name. You can just call me Soda."

I think she still wasn't sure if she should believe me, but she went along with it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Soda." She reached out without hesitation and shook my hand, and didn't seem to notice the black smudge it left on her thumb.

"I'll be able to get the new fuel pump tomorrow morning, so it should be ready by, say, five tomorrow afternoon."

Melanie ran her fingers through her hair and looked relieved. "Oh good, that's fast. I was afraid I wouldn't get it back for a while. How much do you think it will cost?" she asked as an afterthought.

"It should be about thirty-five bucks for parts and labor. And I'll even throw in dinner afterward." I don't know what made me say it. She just seemed so real, so friendly, so…nice.

She gave me a look that was far from positive. Shocked, really. "You want _me_ to go out with _you_?" she asked, all surprised.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? I'm not usually this far off in reading chicks. No way was I about to let her know I'd been serious. I hadn't changed my expression. Until now.

I looked at Melanie like she had just said the funniest thing I'd heard all day. "No, the thirty-five bucks will do it. You didn't think I was serious, did you?" I asked, laughing.

She looked mortified, then tried to play it off with a little chuckle. "Um…no, of course not. That would be pretty silly."

It got a little uncomfortable about then, but I went on like nothing had happened. "Do you need a ride anywhere?"

"What? Oh. No, I called my father while you were looking at the car. He should be here any minute now." Melanie looked down at the floor, apparently unable to meet my gaze. I didn't get it. "Is it alright if I wait in that other room again?" she asked quietly.

"Sure," I agreed cheerfully, not willing to let her know how much her rejection had stung. I could remember feeling like that only once before, and I didn't like the reminder at all. "I'll be right in here working if you need anything."

Not really feeling in the mood to go out any more, I ended up staying at the garage for the next few hours working until Ralph called again.

"Soda, can you go out again for me? I got one guy here, but it was an accident, and they need both cars towed."

"Yeah, sure Ralph." I wrote down the directions and went back out to the truck. It had stopped raining after we'd had one final downpour about a half-hour earlier. The clouds were starting to break up, and I could see some stars showing through.

For some reason there were more people out now than there had been earlier. It took me fifteen minutes to get to the pickup spot. I had to drive along the shoulder past the lineup of cars that had built up. The intersection was littered with shattered glass and pieces of metal. A cop was directing traffic through while a couple of city workers cleaned up the mess. Ralph's guy was already there hooking up one of the cars.

"Hey, want some help?" I called over as I stepped out of the truck.

"Sure," he answered. "Then we'll get the other one on yours. Thanks."

We had the first car up about five minutes later. It was a mess. It looked like it had hit directly into the other car; the front was completely smashed. We moved on to the other car, which didn't look much better at first glance.

I took a closer look at the car, and my heart leapt to my throat.

"Oh, God," I breathed, "not again."

**Pony's POV**

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. SHIT!

I was pacing back and forth in my driveway, waiting for Darry. After I'd gotten off the phone with the hospital I had somehow had the presence of mind to put on my shoes and jacket, grab my wallet, and get my keys. It wasn't until I was out on the front steps that I woke up enough to realize that I didn't have a car. We only have one – I use it for work, and Melissa carpools with another teacher.

I knew it would only take Darry about ten minutes to get to our house, but it was the longest ten minutes I have ever experienced. I was frantic by the time he pulled in. He had barely stopped when I hopped in.

"Is she okay?" he asked immediately.

"The nurse I talked to couldn't give details, but she said Melissa was awake and at least able to give her my name and our phone number." My biggest fear was that the nurse was making things seem better than they were so I wouldn't get myself killed trying to get to the hospital too fast. I've heard they do things like that.

"Pony, I know you're upset, but could you quit tossing around like that? It's a little distracting." I was fidgeting like a little kid and hadn't even realized it. There was a lot of traffic. Some part of my brain wondered vaguely if there was some sort of event going on.

"Sorry." It took real effort to sit still and pretend I wasn't about to have a nervous breakdown.

"No, it's okay. It's just there's a lot of traffic…"

I knew Darry was worried, too. He was exceeding the speed limit by at least ten miles per hour.

When we got to the hospital Darry parked the car while I went inside. There were a couple of nurses sitting at the front desk. I told them who I was, and they took me right back.

"I'll get Dr. White," one of them told me, indicating a chair where I could sit down. I didn't.

A couple of agonizing minutes later a doctor walked up to me and extended his hand, which I shook. "Mr. Curtis? I'm Dr. White. I've been taking care of your wife since she was brought in."

"Is she okay?" I asked. I can't stand when they don't get to the point right away.

"Your wife will be fine," he assured me with a smile. I breathed a little easier. "Come with me, I'll explain on the way."

I walked along with the doctor as he gave me the details on Melissa's condition. "She injured her left foot, but it seems to only be bruised, it will heal on its own. Her head hit the top of the steering wheel, so we had to give her a few stitches on the right side of her forehead. And, for the same reason, I believe she has two or three cracked ribs. They might be broken, but I believe they're just cracked." Believe? Isn't he a doctor?

"You don't know for sure?" I asked, annoyed.

"Normally I would, but your wife declined the x-ray, as well as the pain medication, due to the pregnancy."

I stopped short, and Darry collided with me from behind. I hadn't even realized he was following us.

It took a few more steps for the doctor to realize that I wasn't walking along with him. He turned around and looked at me like he had just told me that the sky is blue.

"The what?" I said.

Dr. White had continued talking after I had stopped listening, so he was visibly trying to backtrack in his mind to figure out what had confused me. "Umm…"

"She's pregnant?" Darry finally said.

Dr. White nodded his head. "Yes, that's right. Didn't you know?"

I shook my head. "No, Melissa isn't pregnant," I told him, like he wasn't a doctor and he didn't know what he was talking about, "she's on the pill."

The doctor glanced down at the file in his hand. "Yes, she's pregnant all right. She told us when she was brought in."

I felt the world around me suddenly rushing around like a blur while my mind tried to catch up with this startling bit of information. Melissa was taking birth control pills. We were planning to wait a few years to have kids. I thought back to Melissa lying on the couch, to how tired she had been the last couple of weeks, to the candles in the bedroom, and Vic at Darry's place.

I'm going to be a father. She had planned to tell me tonight.

"Mr. Curtis?" Dr. White was watching me closely. "Do you want to sit down?"

I blinked, and everything around me slowed back down to normal. "No. No, I'm okay. I'd like to see my wife now."

We walked a few more doors down and Dr. White led me into a small room. As soon as I saw Melissa sitting back on the bed, awake, alert, alive, I felt myself overcome with calm. The horrible frantic dread was gone, and I became the composed sensible person she needed right then.

Melissa, on the other hand, started crying as soon as she saw me. I walked over and sat up onto the edge of the bed, carefully putting my arms around her. She jumped a little when my cold hand came in contact with her back where the hospital gown was coming apart, then leaned her face into my jacket.

"Pony, I'm sorry," she sobbed, "the car…"

The car? She thinks I'm mad about the car? Though I guess after seeing me lose it over a messy house and dry chicken, she didn't know what to expect. I felt so bad.

"Liss, I don't care about the car. I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry. I'm not mad at you…" I went on for a bit, until she calmed down and stopped crying. I knew those ribs were killing her; she didn't need to be tensing up and crying because of me.

I held her back and looked at her. "Liss, I was so scared. I love you so much. I need you. I couldn't stand if anything…" I had to stop when my voice cracked. She looked so tired and upset, but we were getting back to where we should be. She gave me a slight smile. It looked so good, I felt it right through to my soul.

"The doctor told me," I said, and paused to give her a minute to understand. She tensed a little.

"Are you happy?" she asked warily.

Was I happy? I hadn't really been thinking, only feeling. What was I feeling? I was going to be a father. I grinned. "Yeah, I'm happy. I'm really happy."

That seemed to take a big weight off of her, and I could feel her relax in my arms. "Me too," she said.

I smiled at Melissa, and she smiled back as well as she could with the pain she was in. We were good now. Our world was right again.

Darry and I ended up staying at the hospital for three hours, until they had a room ready for Liss. Evidently the hospital was bustling, and it took a while for them to locate and prepare a bed for her. We left at two in the morning. The doctor had encouraged Melissa to at least take some acetaminophen, and she was tired enough that she had been asleep when we left. They were just keeping her overnight because of having hit her head. She would be released the next morning.

Darry took me back to his house, the place that was still home to me, and we set up the couch for me before he went to bed. I ended up not falling asleep until the sky was beginning to lighten, and woke up only a couple of hours later.

As soon as I was awake again my mind was spinning with the events of the night before, and I finally gave up on trying to get back to sleep. I got up and took the newspaper off the porch, then made a pot of coffee and sat down at the dining room table. Vic came out a few minutes later and sat down across from me. Soda was right behind him. I was surprised, I hadn't expected to see him at Darry's.

"Is Melissa okay?" Vic asked. Darry had called his girlfriend and Vic the night before, right after we had seen Melissa, just to let everyone know that she had no serious injuries.

"They just wanted to keep her overnight," I answered. "She cut her head open, and has a few cracked ribs, and a bruised foot. And she's pregnant," I blurted out.

They both looked at me. Soda wrinkled his forehead. "Well shoot, now that I know that can happen from a car wreck, I'd better slow down my driving when I'm out on dates." Vic laughed, which I think surprised both of us. Soda came over and patted me on the shoulder. "Congratulations," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Darry appeared then. He's usually not the last one up, but it was early, so the more surprising thing was that Soda and I were awake.

"Don't ever leave me to babysit your girlfriend again," Vic told Darry. "She's nuts."

Darry gave Vic a light slap on the back of the head. "Watch it," he warned, then came around to my side of the table and winked at Vic. "What happened?"

"We were watching Serpico, and she got it into her head that we should make popcorn," Vic said, rolling his eyes.

"Is that what that burned smell is?" Soda asked.

"Yeah. Twice she tried! I finally ended up having to do it. You have to shake the pot, you know," he informed us, then looked a little embarrassed. "One of my old foster moms showed me," he explained awkwardly. I smiled at him. He was starting to loosen up a little, even as he fought it.

"By the way, what are you doing here, Soda?" I asked, finally getting back to that train of thought.

"I called here just after Darry left to pick you up last night. Jenn told me what had happened, so I came over here after I was done at the garage." He paused. "I got called to pick up your car after the accident."

My stomach lurched. The car.

"Is it at your garage?" I asked.

Soda nodded. "Pony…," he started.

"I need to see it," I cut in.

He shook his head. "Pony, don't. You don't wanna see the car."

I stiffened. "I didn't say I want to see it. I said I need to see it."

He paused momentarily, considering, and finally nodded. "Alright, but only because I know you won't let it go otherwise. I think it's a bad idea, though."

I didn't bother with breakfast; all I needed was to get to the garage and see what they had pulled Melissa out of.

Soda drove us over. We didn't bother with small talk. I don't need to talk when I'm with Soda, anyway. He knows what I'm feeling without words.

I took a couple of deep breaths as I watched Soda flipping through his keys, unlocking the door to the office, and turning on the lights. I closed my eyes and took one more deep breath before following him through the doorway into the garage. Our car was right in front of me. The minute I saw it, I sank to my knees and started crying.

It had been hit on the driver's side, about three feet ahead of where the driver would sit. The entire front of the car was unrecognizable as having ever been part of a vehicle. It was smashed so completely, it was as if it had never been there. Melissa had been going through an intersection, and the person who hit her had run the red light.

Soda knelt next to me and put his hand on my back. "I told you that you didn't want to see the car," he said quietly. He handed me a clean rag, so I wiped my face and quit crying. I couldn't stop looking at it, though.

The speed limit where the accident had occurred is fifty miles per hour. If Melissa had stepped on the gas pedal just slightly, or if the guy that hit her had slowed down just a hair, they would have collided right on top of her. How long does it take to travel an extra yard at fifty miles an hour?

Another breath…another heartbeat…another three feet…and she would have been gone.

* * *

**Dedication**: "March twenty-second, nineteen-seventy-four, a life I wish I could have known had shut its final door…" This goes out to my Uncle Kevin, who will be fifteen years old forever. If I had been your author, I would have given you those three feet, and you wouldn't be gone. 

**Note** (Just me being a stickler for details): I'm not sure if this was well known in the mid-seventies, so it isn't part of the story, but here's what happened to Melissa: a month or so before this chapter she had a sinus infection and was put on antibiotics. For anyone who doesn't know this, antibiotics make birth control pills less effective. A lot of people have gotten pregnant that way, thinking they were protected. Most of the pharmaceutical companies now put warnings on the pill containers and on antibiotics. Just thought you might want to know what the deal is, even though Ponyboy and Melissa might never realize it.

Now, for my reviewers:

Julie: Thanks so much for the compliments, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Hope you liked how everything turned out!

FoxFyre33: Thanks so much, I'm so glad you like my writing and this story. I'll keep it coming!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks! Hope I updated soon enough, you can get off the edge of your chair now! Seriously, let me know if you liked how it turned out.

Keira: You're so funny! I'm glad you got a chance to go back and read it all, what with all the other stuff that you've had to read (hehe). Hope you liked it, and thanks for the compliments!

Tessie26: Okay, your review after chapter 3 had me thinking maybe you're psychic, because I've had this all planned out for a few weeks now. Yes! More kids! I thought it would add an interesting dimension too. Hope you enjoyed!

Kaz456: Thanks, glad you enjoyed. Hope you liked the outcome!

Tensleep: Microsoft Word keeps trying to separate you into 'Ten sleep'. What is a ten sleep? Anyway…yes, it was evil! I wonder where I got the idea to end a chapter with a cliffhanger? Hmmm…I'm glad you liked it, and enjoyed my portrayal of Steve. That's funny that you named Steve's wife Chely. Glad I made your day – and thanks for the compliments, they made mine!


	6. Off the Beaten Path

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. I'm here for fun, not profit.

**Dedication**: This one is for Jack and Will, who managed to entertain themselves for a lot longer than I expected without tearing the house apart so I could finish writing this chapter. Thanks guys, I'll show you this when you can read!

* * *

**Chapter 6 Off the Beaten Path**

**Soda's POV**

"Hey Dar, I'm heading back over to the garage to finish up something. Tell Pony I'll come over tomorrow. Oh, and to call if he needs something. Oh, and tell Liss I said hi. And I hope she feels better. And congratulations."

Darry nodded through my string of comments as he zipped up his pants and pulled his shirt over his head. "Do you want to write it all down in a book and have it published, or should I just remember it all?" He flashed me a half grin which I returned full force.

"You think anyone would pay to read somethin' like that?" I asked innocently.

Darry brushed past me, answering with a slap to my gut. "Didn't hurt!" I hollered, doubled over.

Pony was taking a shower. It was getting close to noon; Darry was taking him and Vic over to the hospital as soon as they were ready. Pony had been all set to pick up Liss first thing, but Darry convinced him to call the hospital first, and it turned out her doctor wouldn't be in to sign her release until early afternoon.

"Do you always wear greasy shirts?"

I turned around to see Vic leaning against the doorway of the dining room, where I was shuffling around for my keys. "Were you always so happy and friendly," I asked, grinning at him and raising my eyebrows, "or were you born evil, and being around me set you on the path to Heaven?"

Vic looked down at the floor, biting his lip, and I could see he was trying to blow me off. He didn't want me to notice that he didn't think I was so bad. I walked around the table to stand in front of him. "I'm replacing a fuel pump today." Vic tensed up, waiting for the inevitable question. I went on, though, "I'd let you help, but I think it's a little…how do they say…beyond your capacity."

Vic looked up at me quickly, surprised, and maybe a little hurt, before he realized that I was messing with him and reverted back to his neutral/slightly angry defensive front. I wished we could get through that. I know it's happening slowly, but standing there in front of me now, he looked so alone I wanted to put my arm around him. That would have been a big mistake, though – it would have been seen more as an invasion than a gesture of understanding. I couldn't imagine not having anyone, and being that lonely.

I tapped the bottom of my fist on the top of Vic's head as I walked by. Apparently that was acceptable, because he didn't react. "Later, chief." Vic nodded as I walked backwards across the living room a few steps, then turned and swung the door open.

It was a clear day, a real contrast to the day before, and I was feeling good knowing that Melissa was okay, insurance would cover their losses, and I was going to be an uncle. It wasn't until I thought of Melanie from the night before, and of the fact that I would be seeing her later today, that I sobered up a little. It bothered me that she was still getting to me.

_(Later that day)_

I had spent so much time in the garage the night before, there wasn't much left to do after I replaced that fuel pump. I was tempted to throw in a free oil change, just because I was bored and guessed that the car probably needed it, but something made me decide not to. I'm not usually spiteful, especially with girls, but her comment kept ringing through my head, and the more it did, the more irritated it made me.

I was getting even more annoyed that it was ten minutes after five and she still hadn't shown up to get her damn car. What did she think I was, one of her paid help? I was a little startled again at how much she had got to me.

It was quarter after five by the time I saw a dark blue Mercedes pull into the front parking lot. I sat up on the trunk of the BMW, feet on the bumper; Melanie walked in a couple minutes later with another rich-looking chick. I hoped they could see how bored I was, them wasting my precious time like it was as worthless as a damn bucket with a hole.

The chick who had brought Melanie looked me over with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk. I've seen the look before. I get two types of looks from rich girls – one, like they want me, as long as nobody ever sees us together; and two, like they want to take me home and show their parents how low they're willing to go to rebel against mommy and daddy's dreams.

The second ones always end up with a rich boy eventually, someone who can buy them what they want and keep them in the social graces of their clan. The first ones always end up with a rich boy, too, but they're fun while they're around if you've got the right attitude. The one standing in front of me looked like she would make for a pretty good time, too. I grinned at her.

Melanie looked embarrassed. "Sorry we're late," she apologized, not offering an explanation.

I hopped down off the car and tossed her the dirty rag I'd been holding. Without thinking, she caught it.

"I'll get the papers, be back in a sec," I said. I didn't bother being polite about her being late.

I ducked into the office and started writing out the diagnosis, parts cost, labor cost, etc. I could have done this before they'd come, but hell, if they were going to be late, they were going to wait, too.

After a minute I noticed that they had wandered over to my side of the garage and were apparently looking at Pony's car. I guess they didn't realize the door was ajar, and I could hear everything they were saying.

"Wow, I hope nobody was hurt in this," Melanie said. "It looks awful."

"Well, look what kind of car it is," her friend answered. "It was probably just some drunken street trash who couldn't drive straight."

Her evaluation went right through me; I felt my heart pound faster, my jaw clenched, my breathing got louder. If she had been a guy I would have walked right out there and knocked her out.

"Not everybody has pockets full of money to spend on an expensive car," Melanie pointed out.

"So Melanie, you didn't tell me what a hunk this car guy is," the friend said, ignoring the pockets full of money comment. "Are you going to ask him out?"

Melanie gave a weak laugh. "Are you kidding? Did you see him? A guy like him would never be interested in someone like me."

I was kind of stunned by the way she said that. It sounded a little backwards, compared to the night before.

"…are a bit plain," the friend was saying. "Maybe you should put on some makeup. You could probably drop a few pounds, too…"

Now that just made me mad. What is wrong with these girls? I thought Melanie was fine exactly how she was.

"I know," Melanie sighed. "It wouldn't matter, though. He still wouldn't notice me. They never do."

She was talking like it was a fact of life, something she had always known and thought would never change. This girl hadn't been appalled about the thought of going out with me, I realized – she had been shocked that I would find her appealing enough to ask out.

Coming to a decision, I stood up and walked over to the doorway, pulling it fully open. "Melanie, could you come in here for a minute?" I asked. She came over without question, probably thinking I had something for her to sign. I led her into the office and closed the door.

I was tired of all the games. There was one girl I had really cared about, and after she'd hurt me, it was all games. For a long time.

Now, today, without warning, I was tired of saying one thing and meaning something else, of hiding behind someone that I wasn't, of saying whatever I needed to say to get myself back in good with a chick. I don't know why it all hit me just then, but looking down at Melanie, standing a few inches shorter than me, it was like I was standing at a crossroads and the path I needed to take was suddenly marked differently, but better, than the one I'd been following. I was ready to be honest again. I wasn't ready to get hurt again, but I guess I was ready to feel again, so I took my chances and hoped for the best.

"Melanie?" She looked up at me, confused and maybe a little scared since I had closed us into a room together and wasn't exactly getting down to the business of the car. It bothered me that she seemed like a nice girl, and I had let her think that she was a waste of time. The way she had been talking, I wondered how many other idiots had brushed her off.

"I wasn't kidding when I asked about dinner last night," I admitted.

She looked surprised, then suspicious. She thought I was stringing her along, making fun of her.

"I thought you blew me off," I continued, "so I played it off like I hadn't really meant it. But I did. I'd like to take you out sometime, if you're interested."

Melanie took a breath and tried not to smile. I wished she would just go ahead and let herself smile.

"Really? You want _me_ to go out with _you_?" I smiled at that, and she did too when she realized that was what had started the whole mess.

"Yeah, I do."

Melanie nodded her head. "Okay. I'd really like to go out with you sometime…Soda." She looked at me questioningly.

"I could show you my birth certificate," I suggested.

She shook her head, finally smiling. "No, I believe you. I'm not sure why, but I believe you."

_(A little over two weeks later)_

**Vic's POV**

I sat outside the bathroom door waiting for the shower. Melissa was curled over the toilet, dry-heaving. I felt bad for her. Why would anyone want to go through something like that just to have a screaming little kid? It was starting to make me feel like puking, so I got up and went to the kitchen.

Pony had the counter spread with bread, peanut butter jar, jelly, plastic wrap, apples, and all the rest of the makings of a brown bagged lunch. He had started making all of our lunches after the accident, and the way Melissa was feeling I guessed it wouldn't change any time soon. I sure as hell didn't want Melissa fixing my food anyway, with the way she would just start gagging and hacking out of nowhere in the middle of whatever she was doing.

Pony barely glanced back when I walked in the room. He was showered and mostly dressed, with his shirt tails hanging out and his shirt half buttoned over his white t-shirt. He hadn't smoked a cigarette since Melissa's accident, and was finally acting normal again.

"Hey, Vic. Did you want ham and cheese, or peanut butter?"

"Ham and cheese." I didn't tell him that it didn't make any difference, I wasn't going to eat it anyway. I always keep aside a little money from what he gives me for going out, so I don't have to look like a nerd walking into school with my lunch in a paper bag. Some of the guys and I go out to a corner store and pick up lunch. At least I don't throw away the lunches he gives me – there's a chick in my class who everyone makes fun of, real poor and wears nasty clothes, and she always looks hungry. I told her I'd give her the lunch Pony gives me, as long as no one sees us together and she doesn't talk to me in the halls. She likes ham and cheese better than peanut butter.

"Anything going on at school today?" Pony asked me. He's always trying to get conversations going. I don't see the point, I'll be out of the house before July anyway. That's when the baby is due – July twenty-fifth.

"No," I answered. The less said, the better. I wished I could talk to him, because there were some things I wanted to ask, but then I might start feeling like I had at the police station and the week-and-a-half after that. It was like being on a roller coaster, and I just wanted to grow up and get off. Or at least have the same person controlling the ride the whole time. Even better would be to have someone sit next to me until the ride was through. I glanced up at Pony. I wonder what it's like to have a brother?

**Pony's POV**

"Do you want an apple or a banana?" I asked Vic. It felt so stupid, trying to start conversations like that.

"Apple."

It had been like this for a couple of weeks now – Vic giving one-word answers, not following through with conversations, nipping them in the bud even. The strange thing was that most of the time these days he didn't have that defiant air to him. He was polite and helpful, and would do whatever I asked him to do. But that was it. It was like living with a nice robot, and it was driving me crazy. I don't know, maybe that was the point.

"How was your history test yesterday?" I tried again.

"Easy."

I slapped his sandwich together and ripped off a piece of plastic wrap.

"Was Melissa still in the bathroom?"

"Yes."

Just then Melissa stumbled into the kitchen, looking pale and tired. "Why don't I feel better after all that?" she asked rhetorically.

I don't know why they call it morning sickness. Liss felt sick all day long. How she managed to keep a class of second graders under control in the state she was in was beyond me.

"You can have the shower," she told Vic. He got up and left the kitchen without a word.

"What kind of crackers do you want?" It was almost all she could stomach, other than hot rice mixed with tuna and cheese. It made me want to barf, but it was almost all she ate for dinner these days.

"Just give me some of each," she answered. "And some pretzels, if there's any left." Suddenly Melissa made a sound like a cat choking up a hairball; hand over her mouth, she shot out of the kitchen toward the bedroom, where we keep a bucket by the side of the bed.

Thank God I'll never have to go through that. I'll tell you, based on me and the rest of the guys I know, there wouldn't be any problems with overpopulation if men were the ones who had to be pregnant.

I sat out in my car for several minutes flipping through the file before going up to knock on the door. I had just seen this girl a few months ago, and it made me sick to be checking on her again under these circumstances.

Her name is Linleigh. She had been taken away from her mother several months ago because her mother is a drug addict. At the time, she had been sent to live with her aunt and her aunt's boyfriend. That was when I had first been assigned to her.

Things had seemed normal on the surface, but something wasn't right. I couldn't put my finger on it. Instinct, I guess. As it turned out, the boyfriend was slapping Linleigh around. I had pulled her out of the house, but a few months later a judge had decided she needed to be with family, as long as the boyfriend didn't come within two miles of the house. As far as I was concerned, in this case, the child needed to be with her family like she needed a hole in the head. They were all a bunch of self-involved trashy druggies who couldn't see that Linleigh was the brightest spot in their universe.

At ten years old, she was a quiet, friendly, sensitive girl who was way smaller than she should have been and who didn't have a rebellious bone in her body. Of all the kids I had seen over the year, Linleigh was the first who brought Johnny's memory back to me with vivid clarity. Instead of retreating inside of herself and putting up a rebellious, angry front, she was becoming lost and forgotten, slowly dissolving away to nothing because of the cruel acts of the people who should have loved her best. As unprofessional as I knew it was, I hated them for it.

I climbed out of the car, opened the front gate, and made my way up the creaking steps to the porch. Linleigh's aunt answered the door and pleasantly invited me in. From what I could see, the house seemed to be neat and in order.

"Hi, Linleigh," I greeted the child on the couch. She smiled.

"Hi, Pony." I've found that telling the kids my first name instead of making them call me Mr. Curtis makes me seem less threatening. Linleigh seemed to both like and trust me, though it was listed in her file that she was generally afraid of men. Made me wonder that the state had put me on her case, but as it turned out things were working fine. Dumb luck on their part.

I did the usual check through the house, the food supply, etc. It was almost disappointing that there was nothing to pick at. My desire to get that girl out of this house was so strong I could feel it in my bones.

It came time for my private talk with Linleigh. Her aunt led us to one of the bedrooms. She gave Lin a fake motherly smile. "You be good now," she said, then grinned at me through clenched teeth. She hated me as much as I hated her, and she knew I wanted to get Linleigh away from her.

I closed the door and turned to the girl. "Sit down, Lin," I invited, indicating the bed. She did as she was told. I got the chair from the desk in the corner and pulled it over, placing it backwards and straddling it to rest my arms on the chair back.

Linleigh sat nervously in front of me, clasping and unclasping her hands together. Her light brown hair hung limp and dull just below her shoulders, and she had the gaunt and tired look of someone who is years older than their body.

"How's it going?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "Everything is going good. I like living here."

Her voice was oddly loud. She glanced behind me. The door was closed.

"Your aunt can't hear you, Lin. It's okay. Are you doing well in school?"

She thought for a moment before starting. "My teachers are nice and I do my homework every night before I go to sleep with Aunt Lisa's help." Now there was a rehearsed answer if I ever heard one.

"Are you eating well?" I continued, asking the standard questions.

Lin thought again for a second. "I eat breakfast in the morning, and lunch at school, and dinner every night. And milk," she added quickly, glancing nervously behind me again. "I get milk to drink. Always."

There was clearly something going on here. I jumped off the beaten path, eager to find something that would help me get her out of here.

"How often does he come over here?" I asked in the same tone as my previous questions. Lin's eyes got big, and she glanced past me again.

"Um…he…sometimes," she answered. This wasn't a question she had expected.

"Was he here recently?" I persisted.

Linleigh was looking a bit panicky, but I knew that her aunt couldn't hear us. This was an old house with good solid wood doors.

"He was here last night," she finally stammered, unable to ignore the question and afraid to lie to me.

"Did he hurt you?"

Lin looked down at the floor. "He gets mad at me," she whispered. I could see she was getting upset, so I dropped it. That was all I really needed, anyway.

"Okay, Lin, that's enough for now. You did a good job." I reached over and patted her on the shoulder. She looked up at me and gave a small smile. She had performed well, and hadn't made me angry. In her world, that alone raised her up a notch in her own eyes. I wanted to destroy the people who had made her like this.

Linleigh followed me back downstairs, where Lisa was sitting on the couch watching a late-afternoon soap opera.

I nodded to her. "I'll see you next month," I lied. I planned to get back to the office, fill out the paperwork for a full investigation, and get this girl out of this house by Wednesday morning.

Lisa smiled bitterly. "I can't wait."

On my way back to the office I started running through the week ahead in my mind. I was glad to be getting Lin back into the group home, as strange as that sounded. I relaxed on that front, and drifted off onto other things.

Thanksgiving was coming up on Thursday. Melissa and I had originally planned to have dinner at our house, since it was our first Thanksgiving together, but had changed the plan after Liss's accident, especially with her feeling so sick. Her parents had decided to go visit out-of-town relatives, and we were going to Darry's. He and Jenn were going to make the main dinner, while I brought over one side dish and Soda and Melanie supplied the cranberry sauce.

Melanie seemed like a really nice girl. She was friendly, and she and Soda seemed so different that they got along like…well, like he and I do. As far as I could think back, she was the first girl he seemed to really like since he was sixteen and Sandy…

I almost slammed on the brakes. You know how you're thinking about one thing, or sleeping even, and some other part of your brain that you aren't even aware of is off doing its own thing and suddenly draws a conclusion that forces its way right to the front of your brain with such abruptness that you either stop what you're doing, or sit up wide awake in bed, slapping your forehead?

It had just happened to me. I cursed quietly, then loudly, scanning frantically for a place to turn around. It's a wonder I didn't cause an accident. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! How could I have been so stupid! Darry always said I didn't use my head. I'd sure proven him right today, and at someone else's expense.

Somehow I managed to grasp enough free mental capacity to pick up my radio and call the police station. I needed Officer Franks. I needed backup.

Linleigh hadn't been looking at the bedroom door behind me. She had been looking at the closet door, right next to it - the one that had been slightly ajar.

I stepped on the gas, almost hoping a cop would spot me and follow as I uttered prayer after prayer that I wasn't too late.

God, Linleigh, I'm so sorry. Please don't let me be too late.

* * *

Yes, I'm being evil again. You know you love the suspense! To my reviewers: 

goldengreaser: Yeah, I thought Pony would make a good dad, too. Hope you enjoyed chapter 6!

Skateboard101: Thanks for the compliment! Yes, Vic is coming back – a little in this chapter, more so in the next. I've actually got almost an entire chapter (one of my favorite ones) written that revolves around him. Keep an eye out!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks, glad you're enjoying!

Tessie26: I've got a little hint of what's going on with Vic's reaction to the baby in this chapter, it comes out more a couple of chapters down the line. Hope you like what I did with Melanie, your idea was really good too. I'll also put in some more Pony/Darry conversations. So much I want to include, I wish I could get it all in at once! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for the suggestions, they always help. You never know, you might end up seeing one of them pop up in the story somewhere down the line!

FoxFyre33: Thanks, I'm glad you liked chapter 5. Don't worry, I never get tired of hearing what people think about my story! Glad you liked the bit about Melanie, hope it panned out well for you in this one. I'm trying to keep her as real as possible, none of that perfect-girl cheesy stuff. Hope it came through alright. A Darry POV is actually coming in soon, in the chapter after the next one. Hope you can wait, I just have to wrap up a few things before I can move on to that! (Darry is one of my favorites, too; I think you'll like his girl, for the irony if nothing else).

lil librada: Glad you liked chapter 5, and that you're enjoying the story overall; that's always good to hear, it keeps me motivated. Thanks!

Tensleep: Yeah, there's probably not too many profiles on the site that are quite like Jhon's, plus the fact that he's not actually the author of the story is amusing in itself. Maybe it's just me. Anyway, glad you liked chapter 5. Soda is a fun guy to write, but difficult at the same time, for me anyway. Vic is a funny kid, I'm looking forward to writing him in more and more as he warms up to everyone. As you could probably see from this chapter, things are going a little backwards on that front again! More to come on that…And the birth control thing, I always used to have to use "other methods" when I was on antibiotics, otherwise the idea in the story would never have occurred to me. Glad I made your day. This is getting long. One last thing – thanks for the compliments, I made sure to point out to Rich that I rock! (I don't get that too often, it was exciting!).

Keira: So glad you're enjoying this story, I love writing it. Hope Soda's new "friend" is meeting up to standards – I'm trying to portray her as your average…well,… "average" girl, even though she comes from a wealthy background. Vic is coming up more soon, I think you'll like the chapter I have that is almost entirely devoted to him. It's mostly written, but doesn't fit in quite yet. Sometimes I think this story is writing itself. I don't mind rambling reviews, so go ahead and babble on!

kaz456: Thanks, I like keeping everyone on their toes! I actually think ahead at least two or three chapters, plus a bit more that's skipped ahead farther than that. The chapters usually end up being longer than I'd originally anticipated, as certain details start coming to me while I'm typing up the main ideas. Then, some of those ideas unexpectedly generate more ideas…it goes on and on (and hopefully doesn't fizzle out!). Glad you enjoyed!


	7. Pony Saved Me

So here we are again. Remember, Pony is hurrying back to Linleigh's house after it occurred to him that someone was hiding in the closet, listening…

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Too bad she doesn't own the movie, or she could get us that darn extended DVD already! (sorry)

**Dedication**: For Alli, Keira, and Tens, who gladly read anything I send them (goes both ways!), and for all my readers and reviewers. Scary thing going on with me right now, it is such a help to be able to retreat to a world where I control the outcome. You're all my motivation!

Moving on…

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**Pony's POV**

I raced back to the house in half the time it had taken me to get to the point where I'd turned around. There were sirens howling off in the distance, but I didn't wait.

I jumped out of the car, probably didn't even close the door, I don't remember now, threw open the front gate, went up the steps, through the unlocked front door, and took the inside stairs three at a time, holding the handrails on either side of me like a mountain climber.

I could hear them as soon as I'd come through the front door.

"Don't yell at me, I told the little brat what to say!" Lisa was screaming.

"Well maybe she needs ME to teach her another lesson!" shouted a male voice, and I heard a loud slap and a crash.

I'd made it halfway up to the bedroom, where Lisa was standing in the doorway watching what was going on within. From inside the room I could hear Linleigh's quiet voice repeating over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"You won't be sorry enough until I'm done with you," he snarled angrily.

Two more steps, one more step…I thrust Lisa out of my way and turned into the bedroom. He was standing next to the bed gripping a handful of Lin's hair in his fist while she dangled next to him, eyes shut tight and too afraid to put her feet down to take the weight off. A purple bruise was already rising on her cheek, and her arm was wrapped around her side.

I hadn't stopped moving, and he didn't see me coming. I didn't hear Lisa screaming behind me, didn't see where Linleigh had escaped to, didn't even notice the cops until two of them had me by the arms and were pulling me away from him. All I saw was the man who represented the bearer of the pain all of them had gone through – Linleigh, Vic, Johnny, Dally, Steve…and I didn't stop pounding on him until those cops pulled me away.

"Curtis. Curtis!" I blinked and took a few long, deep breaths. Officer Franks was holding the front of my shirt, forcing me to make eye contact. "We got him. Okay? We got him." Another cop was handcuffing the boyfriend, who peered fearfully at me through his one unswollen eye as blood dripped from his nose and mouth.

I closed my eyes and took one last calming breath. As I felt myself relax, as the raw fury drained away, Officer Franks nodded at the men who were still holding me, and they let go.

"No, no, no!" The panicked voice in the corner caught my attention and brought my mind rushing back to my true purpose.

"Stop," I said sharply. A fourth police officer was crouched in the corner on the other side of the bed, trying to coax Linleigh out. He was a young guy, probably younger than me, and he looked up when I spoke.

"I'll take care of it," I told him, softening my voice. "Thanks."

He stood up, and I took his place. Linleigh was curled up in the corner hugging her knees, eyes wide and fearful. I could imagine my entrance and behavior had taken her by surprise, and the sudden influx of uniformed men of authority had her looking like a trapped animal.

"Lin? It's okay, honey. It's me. Pony." I extended my arm. Her expression wilted slightly, and she let out a small sigh, then moved toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck tightly. I stood up and carried her out of the room, down the steps, and out of the house that she would never have to live in again.

"Mr. Curtis!" Officer Franks had followed me out the front door. "One of my boys will take you over to the hospital." One of the officers was right behind Franks; he hurried past me to open the door of one of the patrol cars. I slid in with Linleigh still hanging on to my neck. She didn't cry, didn't speak, didn't make a sound or a movement that wasn't involved with either breathing or swallowing.

I talked to her on the way to the hospital. She didn't need to be traumatized by a completely new set of surroundings and people, I could at least give her a heads up on what to expect. "We're going to the hospital now. The doctors and nurses there are very nice people. They'll take care of you. You can help them out by letting them take a look at you to see what they need to fix." I tried to keep my explanations positive and simple without making her feel like I was patronizing her.

While I talked, Officer Mead radioed ahead to let the emergency room know that we were on our way. We got there in a little over five minutes. The cop pulled right up to the E.R. entrance and jumped out to open my door. I slid out carefully and followed him through the automatic doors.

Two nurses met us right inside the doorway with a bed. "You can put her right here," one of them told me, patting the bed. I tried to set Lin onto the bed, but she wouldn't have it. I was her lifeline, and she wasn't letting go of me for anything or anyone. The nurse shook her head and waved me to follow her.

We entered a small room with another bed. I sat down on the edge of it.

"Linleigh? My name is Nurse Margaret. The doctor is going to come in and take a look at you. Can we put a gown on you? Look, it has lots of colors on it." Lin didn't respond, just held me tightly and pressed her face a little more firmly into my neck.

"Lin," I tried, "can you let go of me for just a minute? They just need to put the gown on you." Nothing.

I looked pleadingly at the nurse. "Does she have to let go?"

"We'll see what we can do. Linleigh honey? I'm going to take off some of your clothes so we can put the gown on and the doctor can see where you got hurt. Alright?" She carefully started removing Lin's pants, unbuttoning her shirt. Lin tensed.

"I'm closing my eyes," I whispered in her ear; I felt a subtle nod, and she relaxed a little. I remember that part of being ten. Specifically, I remember the embarrassing predicament I had put myself in at that age – thinking no one was around, taking my clothes off to look at myself in the bedroom mirror, searching for muscles, looking for new signs that I was catching up with Soda and Darry, wondering if everything was big enough – and then realizing in horror that my sixteen-year-old brother had walked in on me and was watching with amusement. You forget how small and vulnerable you can feel when you're ten, and what a strong sense of modesty you've got.

When it came to getting her shirt off and the gown on, Linleigh gave in enough to let go of me with one arm at a time. A minute later, the nurse was finished.

"Can I open my eyes now?" I asked Lin, giving the control to her instead of assuming it myself. She nodded slightly.

"Linleigh? I have an ice pack here. You can put it on the bruise on your face, it might help it feel better." Nurse Margaret looked to me, so I took the ice pack and nodded.

The nurse left, and it was just the two of us. I stroked Lin's hair silently, and after a few minutes she relaxed enough that she had slid down a bit, so her head was resting on my shoulder and she could see around the room. Her grip loosened until her arms were draped around my shoulders instead of clinging desperately to my neck. I handed her the ice pack, which she held tentatively against her sore face.

After about ten minutes of waiting for the doctor, Linleigh started shifting around. I didn't really even notice at first, but it was becoming obvious that something was going on.

"Linleigh, is something wrong?" I asked.

She stretched herself up close to my ear. "I need to go to the bathroom," she confided.

"Oh, okay. We can find a bathroom." Lin allowed me at last to put her down. She walked unsteadily beside me out of the room in her gown and socks. I stopped a nurse, who pointed out the bathroom.

"I'll wait right out here for you," I assured Lin as she closed the door. The emergency room was packed. Another ambulance had just arrived, and doctors and nurses were bustling around like bees in a hive.

It hit me then that I should call Melissa and let her know where I was. It was getting late, she would be expecting me home soon. I stepped over to the nurse's station, where one of them handed up a phone and dialed for me. I gave Melissa the details and got back to the bathroom door. It opened about two seconds later.

Linleigh looked pale and shaky, worse than she had when she'd gone in. "What's wrong?" I questioned. She didn't answer, just pointed behind her. I stepped into the bathroom and peered into the toilet; the water was tinged pink.

"Nurse!" I called, trying for Lin's sake to not sound worried.

One of the nurses who had been on her way into a room stopped and came back when I called. She looked into the toilet, then turned to me. "I'll have one of the doctors check her out right away," she assured me.

"Come on, Lin, let's get back into the room." She followed a step or two behind me. Once we were in the room I helped her up onto the bed. She sat quietly, legs dangling, absently twisting my wedding ring on my finger.

The doctor showed up a minute later. He was young and had the superior air of someone who's been at their job just long enough to feel like they are head and shoulders above everyone around them. I disliked him immediately. Nurse Margaret followed him in.

"Lay down on the table, now. Where does it hurt?" As he spoke, the doctor took Lin by the arm and nearly forced her to lie down on the table.

"This is Linleigh," I cut in, annoyed that he hadn't even introduced himself.

He glanced over at me. "Are you the social worker?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered sharply.

"Were you present when the beating occurred?" he asked, as if Lin wasn't laying right there in front of him listening to every word.

"No, I wasn't there when the beating occurred." Was he serious? "If I had been there, it wouldn't have happened." A pang of guilt shot through me. If I hadn't questioned her about the boyfriend, it wouldn't have happened.

The nameless doctor turned back to Linleigh. "I need to determine where the blood is originating," he told her, and I saw the panic rise in her eyes at the word 'blood.' He sat Lin back up like a rag doll, untied her gown, and slid it off to her waist. Lin flinched at his probing hands as her face reddened from the unexpected exposure. I wanted to strangle him, but at the same time I didn't want to scare Linleigh.

The doctor began spouting off observations, which the nurse jotted down on Lin's chart. "Bruises to the ribs, bruising indicating blunt trauma to the left kidney…" he went on.

I was getting my first look at the brutality she had endured in the short time it had taken me to leave the house and get back again. Aside from the bruise on her cheek and the swollen lip, her back and her left side were covered with deep purple bruises. She looked for all the world like she'd just been in a street fight.

"…shame these kids don't have the sense to tell someone when this kind of abuse is going on," the doctor was saying as he poked and prodded at Linleigh. He pulled on her arm a bit. "Lay down," he told her impatiently when she didn't move. "I mean, it would make life a lot easier for us if they didn't have to keep coming in here to get treated, though I'm sure in your position you feel the same way," he continued knowingly as he proceeded to pull Lin's gown the rest of the way off, leaving her lying completely naked on the bed. She turned her head away from me, tears welling up, as the doctor coldly analyzed the bruises on her hips and thighs.

I had reached the end of my rope. I grabbed my jacket off the chair and threw it over Lin. "Get out," I told the doctor.

He looked at me, startled. "Mr. Curtis, this is my patient. If you don't…"

"Get out," I repeated more forcefully. I turned to Nurse Margaret. "Is Dr. White here?"

She nodded, glaring arrows at the young doctor from behind. "I'll be right back with him."

The nameless tactless doctor turned and left the room in a huff. I turned to Lin, who was trying to sink as far into the bed as she could without going straight through to the floor.

"Lin, that guy is an idiot. Don't believe anything he said." I knew she trusted me, but his words and actions had stung her to the core. He had made her feel like trash, brainless insignificant white trash. I pulled the blanket up over her, then reached down and held her hand.

"Mr. Curtis?"

I turned to the familiar voice. "Thanks for coming, Dr. White. I was having a problem with the other guy." The look on his face made me think he had some idea what I was talking about.

"I apologize for that. Well now, who do we have here?" he asked pleasantly. He picked up Linleigh's chart and scanned over it. "Linleigh, my name is Dr. White, or you can call me Dr. Jeff. It looks like we'll have to do an IVP," he told Lin, and I was glad he didn't talk over her to me. "That means that we're going to take a picture of your insides, so we know why the water was a little pink when you went to the bathroom. The only thing you'll feel will be a little pinch from the needle. We need to put something into your body that we can find on the pictures. Is that okay?"

Lin nodded wordlessly, though she was eyeing this new doctor with fear and distrust.

"Good, good. Nurse Margaret will help you get back into your gown. Is it okay if I borrow…" he looked up at me.

"Pony," I told him.

"If I borrow Pony for a few minutes?" he asked.

Lin looked to me fearfully.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my car keys. "Can you hold these for me while I'm gone?" I asked. Lin nodded and took the keys, holding them in her fist as if her life depended on it. They were her tangible guarantee that I would come back.

I followed Dr. White out of the room. "We're going to need to look at her kidneys, as I suspect that's where the blood is coming from," he explained. "I'm ordering an intravenous pyelogram. Dye will be injected into Linleigh's blood to be used as a tracer for the x-ray. We should be able to tell the extent of the damage from that."

"What happens after that?" I was still feeling shaky from seeing blood in the toilet, and was envisioning surgery.

"There's a good chance it will heal on its own if there hasn't been too much damage." Dr. White patted me on the shoulder. "I think she'll be fine in the end, physically. I'll have the nurse bring in some pain medication, it looks like Linleigh could use some."

"Thanks, Dr. White."

"Mr. Curtis." I turned to see Officer Franks heading toward me. "A detective should be here within the hour to ask Linleigh some questions. Is she doing alright?"

I filled him in on the details, finishing just as another hospital person entered Lin's room. "Look, I need to get back in there now," I told Franks. "Thanks again for the backup."

He smiled and patted my arm. "Any time, kid. Any time."

When I got back into the room the nurse and the person who turned out to be from x-ray were preparing Linleigh, inserting an IV needle and explaining the procedure. She was still clutching my keys tightly. Lin looked nervous, but she had relaxed considerably since we had arrived.

"Mr. Curtis, will you be coming along, or waiting here?" Nurse Margaret asked me when it was time to head over to x-ray.

Lin gave me a pleading look, which she really hadn't needed to do. "I'll come along," I said. I walked alongside the bed as they wheeled it through the hallways, around corners, and finally to a small waiting area marked "x-ray."

Everything went smoothly, and within twenty minutes we were on our way back to the E.R.

"Pony!"

"Hey Liss, what are you doing here?" Melissa and Vic were waiting for us in Linleigh's room.

"We thought maybe you'd be hungry." She held up a bag from a fast-food place.

"How'd you get here?" It suddenly occurred to me that I had left our car in front of Lin's aunt's house. The nurse situated Linleigh's bed and locked the wheels before leaving.

"Officer Franks sent one of his patrol cars over to pick us up. He drove us to the car, and here we are." She looked a little pale and tired. Vic was shifting around, bored.

"Guys, this is Linleigh. Lin, this is my wife, Melissa, and Vic, our foster son." Lin smiled faintly. The pain medication was working, both in reducing the pain and in helping her to relax.

"Are you hungry, honey?" Liss asked, moving to stand next to the bed. "I've got a cheeseburger and some fries in here," she added temptingly.

Lin nodded, so Liss pulled out the food. "Vic, here's yours, and Pony, we got you one of those bigger sandwiches, whatever they're called…" She can't keep a thought in her head for more than five seconds since she got pregnant.

"How about you?" I was worried that she wasn't eating enough, as sick as she was feeling.

"I've got some crackers, and I think I can handle some of the fries. Anyone want to share?" Vic and Lin both held their fries over.

We all just sat and ate for a few minutes. Linleigh was looking like she hadn't eaten in days, which sadly enough was probably not far from the truth. I hadn't even thought to get her some food, I was so concerned about her injuries.

"So what happened to you?" Vic asked out of the blue, indicating Lin's face.

I was about to make a comment to him about being rude, but Lin didn't seem to be fazed by it. "My aunt's boyfriend," she said simply.

Vic nodded understandingly. "Me, it was my dad," he explained around the French fry in his mouth. I was stunned. He had never said anything to any of us about his father's beatings.

They both continued eating like they had just been musing over the weather. Melissa looked a little ill, and I don't think it was from being pregnant.

"Mr. Curtis? Can I see you for a moment?" Dr. White had come through the open door and peered around the pulled curtain.

I stood up to follow him out of the room, Melissa right on my heels. He led us to an empty room and put a couple of x-rays up on the lighted board. "This is the dye, here. You can see where the problem is, in her left kidney. As I suspected, though, there isn't significant damage. She'll need to stay in the hospital for a few days, until her urine is clear, then it'll take another several days of rest before she can resume normal activity."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Melissa looked horrified. "How could someone do this to a little girl?" she asked, looking to me. I didn't have an answer. "How do you do this," she nearly whispered. "How do you see this kind of thing every day and not go crazy?"

"I don't know, Liss," I said truthfully. "Maybe I will someday. But for now, some of them need me to be the sane person in their life." It was the only thing I could think to say. My wife put her arm around me and sighed deeply, rubbing her abdomen. I leaned down and kissed her head. I guess we were both thinking of the baby growing inside of her. It wasn't even born yet, and I already couldn't stand the thought of it getting hurt.

"Do you know where the bathroom is?" Melissa asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah, out here." I led her to the bathroom, then went back to Lin's room. As I approached the open door I could hear Vic and Linleigh talking. I eased up to the door quietly. I don't like to eavesdrop, but the way Vic clams up, especially recently, I'll take a peek into his heart and soul whatever way I can.

"Do you like living there?" Lin was asking.

"I guess so. They're nice enough," Vic answered. They were both silent for a minute, and I almost walked in.

"You know, Pony saved me."

My breath caught in my throat. I wanted to laugh and cry, dance in the hallway and do cartwheels down the stairs. But I stayed where I was for another minute, listening.

"Yeah. He saved me, too," Lin answered.

**Melissa's POV**

On Tuesday night Pony, Vic, and I took dinner over to the hospital and sat with Linleigh until visiting hours were over. She was loosening up a bit around me and Vic. Pony was the only one she truly trusted. Her eyes just lit up when she saw him. It gave me a new respect for the guy I had married. That he could see the kind of pain he saw every day and keep coming home and finding beauty in the simple things was beyond me. But then, we grew up in different worlds. He knew how to handle pain. It was new for me.

"Vic, have you seen my purse?" I called down the hallway. I swear, this baby is stealing my brain cells, one by one. I can't remember anything these days.

Vic poked his head out of his bedroom and gave me a strange look. "Isn't that it, hanging from your shoulder?"

I looked down. Yep, there it was. I gave him a sheepish grin, and he tried not to laugh at me. "Thanks. Good thing my head is attached, as they say. Are you ready to leave?"

"In a minute. I just need to grab a few things."

"Don't hurry," I told him. "I'll give Soda a call now, so he won't be here for at least five minutes." Vic and I had had a half-day at school, so we were going over to the hospital to keep Lin company for the afternoon. It was so awful that she had no family members to visit her. I called Soda's garage to let him know we were ready to be picked up.

Vic came out of his room. "Sandwiches?" he reminded.

"Right. Can you grab the bag? It's on the counter."

I shuffled around on the hall table, then through my purse. Vic returned with the bag of lunch. I looked questioningly at him.

"Sunglasses?" he ventured a guess.

"Yeah…"

He pointed to my head. I reached up to find them resting over my hair. "Thanks."

Soda arrived a few minutes later to pick us up, and within ten minutes we were at the hospital.

As we walked through the hallways on our way up to pediatrics I wondered what was in the box that Soda was carrying.

"What's in the box?" Vic asked, echoing my thought.

Soda grinned at him. "Something for the lady," he answered mysteriously.

"What is it, a carburetor?" Vic persisted. "You're not gonna start asking her to help you fix cars already, are you?"

Soda and I laughed. I wish Vic would let his guard down more often. He can usually make me laugh, or at least smile, when he does. I just don't get it. Pony told me what Vic had said to Linleigh in the emergency room on Monday night. We knew he liked us, but that wasn't what he indicated openly, especially recently. He was helpful and polite, but treated us like complete strangers.

Linleigh looked up and smiled when Vic and I entered the room. I noticed she was looking a little drowsy, but they had her on some fairly strong pain medication. If nothing else, she had gotten a lot of sleep the last couple of days.

Soda came in behind us, and Lin tensed up a little when she spotted him. But he grinned widely at her, and I think she saw the resemblance to Pony, because she relaxed.

"Hi beautiful," Soda greeted, "I'm Sodapop, Pony's brother." He approached the bed and sat on the edge. "I heard you need a nighttime buddy to keep you company here." With that, he placed the box on the bed next to her. The nurses had told us that they would come in throughout the night to find Lin sobbing inconsolably and unable to sleep. The doctor had given her a sedative halfway through the second night. She was fine during the day, but the nights were bad.

Lin looked to me, then pulled the lid off the box when I smiled and nodded approval. She pulled out a beautiful brown teddy bear, dressed in a pink gown with a real red rose tied to its arm. I admit, I got a little teary. I don't know if it's the hormones, or what, but I've been very emotional lately.

Vic sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"What's your problem?" Soda asked good-naturedly, turning to face Vic.

"You just think you're so slick with women," Vic observed.

"Oh yeah? And I suppose you know exactly how to talk to women," Soda prodded.

"Yeah, I know exactly how," Vic said. "You were there at the movie for my birthday, it's easy." Lowering his voice about ten octaves, Vic belted out, "Yo Adrienne!" in what I found to be an excellent imitation of Sylvester Stallone.

Grinning, Soda nodded appreciatively. "You got the line down, Rocky. Now you just need the bod."

Vic shook his head at the insult, looking to Linleigh and smiling. She sat on the bed giggling wildly at him, and holding on to that teddy bear for dear life.

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So that's it for now. Here's a survey: anyone think I should make a one-shot out of Pony's little flashback of being ten years old? I could add it to The Chaperone as unconnected, just some short views on different things that happened to the family over the years. Just say the word! 

Thanks for reading! Now for my reviewers:

kiki-kirara: Thanks! Soda is a tough one to write, so I'm glad you liked how I portrayed him. He and Melanie will be in the next chapter too, along with most of the rest of the gang. Hope you enjoyed!

myhubbyisob: Glad you enjoyed! Hope I updated soon enough!

Tsuppi: Thanks, glad you enjoyed and saw everyone as realistic. Thanks for the comments, too. I had considered splitting the last one into two chapters, since the only thing I wanted to cover from the day after the hospital was Soda's encounter with Melanie, but since I had it all written I figured I might as well post it all together. Hope you enjoyed chapter 7!

darkdestiney2000: Thanks, glad you're enjoying! Hope you were happy with the outcome for Linleigh!

Rock: Don't worry about not reviewing each chapter – when I jump in on something a few chapters in I tend to leave an "overall" review. That was an awesome review, by the way, thanks! Glad I was able to keep you teetering on the right side of insanity. Thanks again, and I'll be listening for that shout of joy when I post this!

Tensleep: Yeah, you're a great teacher! Glad you enjoyed, and I'm happy to hear that Pony's sudden realization came through so realistically. Thanks for the compliments, I love that! I rock! Hehehe. By the way, if you're ever in a bind, I've got a great cookie recipe, they're the only ones I ever make!

Reviewer: Thanks, hope you enjoyed the update!

caillion: Yeah, evil, it's my middle name (haha!). Glad it's all coming across as realistic. Based on most of the men I know, there wouldn't be too many kids in the world! They make great dads though, so I guess Mom Nature knows what she's doing.

Keira: I'm so glad you liked how I wrote Soda! I'll try and put a little of all of us into Melanie, so we all get a chance at him! Vic is one of my favorites to write. Sorry, didn't mean to make anyone cry, though I guess that's good if I'm drawing out emotions. Sometimes I make myself cry, is that just odd? Yeah, I got Allison's review and emails, thanks! You guys are awesome, I totally love writing for you!

mrs sodapop curtis: Glad you enjoyed!

screaming666: THANKS! Hope you liked how it all turned out so far!

ktk2005: Thank you! No cliffhanger on this one, but a little foreshadowing. Hope you enjoyed!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Yeah, I know, we all love/hate cliffhangers. Thanks! Hope you enjoyed!

Scarlett7: Hehehe…the one time that having more to read is not a good thing! Hope you enjoyed!

kaz456: Thanks for the review, hope you enjoyed!

Chronic Sarcasm: Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Yeah, that morning sickness is a bitch. Lasts all day and you find yourself eating sardines on crackers at two in the afternoon. I think Melanie needs some new friends, eh? Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Thanksgiving

I'm finally updating! This chapter is a little of a "relay" with points of views. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Darry's POV**

Nine o'clock? I never sleep this late! We'd been up late the night before talking, though, and I have to admit, it's not easy to get up and walk away when there's a warm body in the bed next to you. We hadn't intended for her to stay overnight, but by the time we were done talking, it was after two in the morning and I wasn't about to let her drive home, not in that unreliable lemon she drives. She'd assured me she could take care of anything that happened, she has a twin brother who fixes cars and she's picked up a few things over the years, but I didn't like the thought of her standing on the side of the road with her head under the hood in the middle of the night.

I slid my arm out from under her and quietly rolled off the bed. Good, I didn't wake her. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and headed out to the kitchen where, oddly, I smelled coffee. Sure enough, an almost full pot was waiting on the counter. I poured myself a cup and turned to survey the kitchen.

Everything was neat and clean. It almost made me wince to think of the number of dishes that would be filling the sink and counters later in the afternoon. I'm used to just me now. I use the same plate, cup, fork, and spoon every day. Really I should start rotating my dinnerware, since the ones I use all the time are looking more worn than everything else.

Hopefully the turkey is big enough, I thought. The woman at the store picked it out for me when I told her how many people we were having. Since then, the only additional person was the little girl Pony was bringing with them. I hadn't met her yet, but couldn't imagine that a ten-year-old girl would consume a whole lot of food.

I finished my coffee and turned to wash my mug in the sink. Before I was done, a pair of arms encircled my waist.

"Let's see…it's either Jenn, or that turkey in the fridge has a vengeful family and I should get out now."

Laughter. "Hey," I said, turning around and resting my arms on her shoulders, "did you make the coffee this morning?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, I was on my way in to do it, but there were a couple of elves on the counter…"

Jenn laughed and pulled away when I reached down to tickle her stomach. "You're a real wise mouth," I told her.

"I know. Yeah, I made the coffee. I woke up at five, so I decided it would be nice to see the sunrise. Since I was up, I made the coffee."

"You got out of bed at five to watch the sunrise?" I'd never been motivated to do something like that, but standing there looking at her with her hair like a rat's nest and wearing one of my shirts, I was thinking I could motivate myself to go out and watch the grass grow, if she was with me and thought it was a good idea.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked suspiciously.

"Grass," I answered.

"Grass? Like marijuana?"

I laughed. "No. A different kind of drug. Never mind." She was looking at me like I was nuts. "Feel like going back to bed for a while?" I asked.

"Now, that's the best idea I've heard all day," she grinned.

**Vic's POV**

"Vic, can you stay here with Lin while we go hunt down her doctor?" Pony asked me.

I nodded, and him and Melissa left. I flopped down in the chair next to the bed and looked up at Linleigh. She's okay, not annoying like most of the little kids I know. Maybe it's just because she doesn't talk much, I don't know.

"Did you sleep with that dumb bear?" I asked her. The teddy bear that Soda had given her was lying on the bed next to her.

Lin smiled guiltily. "I like it."

I shrugged. I never had a teddy bear and never got how kids could get attached to them.

"Vic? Can you help me out of the bed? I need to go to the bathroom." Lin was sitting up stiffly.

I stood up and helped her get down off the bed; walking backwards slowly, she rolled her IV thingy along with her to the bathroom. I guess those hospital gowns don't stay closed too good in the back. Three days later, and she's still sore from that beating. What kind of jerk hits a little girl? It made me really mad. Even my father had the sense to teach me that you don't hit girls. Maybe he would have thought differently if I had been a girl.

"Are you Linleigh's brother?"

The girl in the other bed was checking me out.

"No," I answered, "not really."

"Are you her boyfriend?" she asked.

Boyfriend? What kind of drugs are they giving these kids here? "No!" I snapped, not meaning to sound so harsh, but I mean, come on. Her boyfriend?

"Well, if you're not Linleigh's boyfriend, maybe we can go out sometime," she said hopefully, then added, "You're really cute."

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Twelve."

"Look, um…"

"Julie," she told me.

"Look, Julie, I don't date twelve-year-olds. But write your name down, and when you're eighteen and I'm twenty, I'll give you a call and we can go out to dinner. Deal?"

That seemed to satisfy her. She looked excited, even, and grabbed a piece of paper out of the night table to write her name down. Kids are so dumb. She gave me the piece of paper, so I stuffed it into my back pocket.

Linleigh was coming out of the bathroom, so I went back over to her bed to help her up. Who makes beds this high for little kids to climb into?

**Linleigh's POV**

Julie was giving Vic a piece of paper when I came out of the bathroom. I wondered if they had been talking about me. Julie had said some mean things to me earlier.

It still hurts when I walk. Mostly it's my back, but the doctor says I have to just wait for my kidney to heal. My side hurts, too, but my face is a little better. I want it to get better soon, so people stop looking at me funny. I hate looking different.

Vic came over to the bed to help me up. We figured out the day before that if he just kneels on the floor, I can stand backwards against the bed and step on his leg to get up. I have to stand backwards because the hospital gown only ties in two places, and I just have underwear on underneath of it. I hate being here. I hate hospitals.

Vic sat back down in the chair after I was on the bed. I don't really know any boys except the ones in my class at school, and they make fun of me, but Vic seems to think I'm alright. He's nice to me. I think he's funny. He acts like he doesn't like Pony and Melissa too much, though. But I guess he's had a bad life, and he doesn't trust too many people.

Pony and Melissa came in then, and I couldn't help but smile, even though I tried not to. I wish Pony was my dad. I never knew mine, but I always used to imagine what he would be like, even though I knew that he was a bad person and in jail; but when I first met Pony, he was the person that I had imagined being my dad. I'll never tell him that, it's too embarrassing.

He came over and sat on the bed next to me. "We found your doctor, Lin. He signed off on your release paper, so you can go ahead and get dressed."

"We brought you some clothes," Melissa said, holding up a bag. I cringed, thinking about the clothes from my house. Nothing fits right, and most of it is worn and dirty-looking.

Pony helped me off the bed so I could go in the bathroom and change. "Thanks," I told Melissa when she handed me the bag. Pony walked with me to the bathroom to hold my gown closed.

**Melissa's POV**

I watched Linleigh disappear into the bathroom. I hoped she liked the clothes I'd picked out for her. They seemed to be the style most of the kids at school were wearing.

"Did you tell Darry what time we were coming over?" I asked Pony.

He shook his head. "No, but he'll expect us before noon. We usually go out to play football around eleven."

"Football?" Vic looked interested.

"Yeah," Pony told him, "whoever's at the house goes out to the lot to play football on Thanksgiving morning. Some years it was just me and Darry and Soda. Other years it was a bunch of us – Steve, Two-Bit, Johnny,…" Pony trailed off, looking nostalgic for an instant. "Anyway, you can play, if you want. We play tackle football, though, so if you don't want to get hurt…"

I knew Pony was just saying it to egg Vic on. Vic shrugged like he didn't care, but I could see he was interested. I couldn't imagine him turning down an opportunity for a try at tackling Pony to the ground.

The bathroom door opened, and Linleigh stepped out grinning ear to ear. I took that as a sign that she liked the clothes – a red shirt, plaid jumper, tights, and new shoes. She looked radiant with that smile.

"Thank you," she said again, looking a little flustered.

"You're welcome, honey. You look great!" I almost forgot she didn't have a normal life, a good family.

"Are we all ready?" Pony asked.

**Pony's POV**

Everyone sort of nodded or didn't say anything. "Let's go, then."

Linleigh really did look nice. I was glad Melissa had volunteered to go out and get her some new clothes. I would have had no idea what to buy. We had a suitcase full in the trunk, too, to take to the group home with her tomorrow. That wasn't something I wanted to think about, though. Not today.

A nurse showed up with a wheelchair for Lin, and walked along with us to the exit. We made our way to the car slowly, since Linleigh was tired and still sore. Vic walked with her ahead of us. He seemed to get along with her well. I guess they've got a lot in common.

We got to Darry's a little before eleven. Soda had just arrived with Melanie. She took one look at us and turned to Soda. "You know, I think I am overdressed," she started.

Soda shook his head. "I told you, Mel, you look fine."

She was wearing a really nice dress, probably silk, and fancy shoes, and truthfully looked more like she was going to a country club ball than to the Curtis's house for Thanksgiving. I agreed with Soda, though – she looked really good. Just because the rest of us were dressed down didn't mean someone shouldn't look decent.

"Really, though," she said again, "I should go home and change. I'm completely out of place."

Soda smiled at her. "You look great, trust me. Have I ever lied to you?"

Melanie raised her eyebrows and gave him a look. "A jigwig? The fossenflopper?"

Soda grinned sheepishly, and I laughed. "He fixed your car, eh? Listen, if he ever takes you camping, don't let him send you off asking around for a left-handed smoke-shifter."

It was Soda's turn to laugh. "Man, Pony, you were wandering around for almost an hour. Me and Dad and Darry were done eating by the time you got back."

"Yeah, and I actually found a guy who told me sorry, but he just had a right-handed model."

Soda opened the front door, and we all invaded the house at the same time. I still hadn't met Darry's girlfriend, so I was anxious to see her. I took a look around the living room as everyone filed in behind me, and assumed the woman sitting on the couch reading a book was Jenn.

"Hi," I greeted. She didn't move, just kept reading. "Hello?" Nothing. Everyone was standing behind me now, looking at the person I figured was Jenn.

"Jenn!"

Her head popped up at Darry's voice. He was standing in the dining room doorway. Jenn looked over at all of us standing in the front doorway.

"Oh…hi!" she greeted, scrambling up off the chair and turning red. "I'm sorry, I was reading…" she explained weakly.

Soda grinned at her. "We don't know anyone else who disappears to another planet while they're reading, do we Pon," he told her, jabbing me in the back.

"Yeah, I do the same thing," I admitted. Everyone piled the rest of the way into the room, and all the necessary introductions were made. Linleigh nearly cringed when Darry came near her.

"Hey Dar," I said, pulling Darry aside, "I'd like to set up the couch for Linleigh to lie down. She's still not feeling too good."

"Yeah, I can see, she looks like she's about to fall over. Come in the bedroom and help me grab some stuff."

I followed Darry into the spare bedroom. He closed the door behind us and turned to me. I started feeling like I was thirteen again, and he was getting ready to chew me out over something stupid that I did. "What's up?"

"What's going on with Vic?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, though I thought I might know what he meant.

"He's not saying anything to me. It's like he's a…a…"

"A robot?" I suggested helpfully.

"Yeah. What's up with that?

"I have no idea," I said honestly. "I was hoping you could tell me. He's been the same way with you?"

"Yeah. Ever since Liss's accident…do you think it has something to do with that? Or with the baby?"

That hadn't occurred to me. "You think he's jealous?" I couldn't imagine Vic being jealous of a baby.

"No, probably not. He's different, though, and I can't seem to get around it. I thought maybe you would know." Darry ran his hand through his hair, then shrugged and pulled a blanket off the bed as I grabbed a pillow.

"Well, let's get back out there," Darry said, slapping me on the back. "I'm about ready to run you down over at the lot."

"Dream on," I laughed, fully aware that Darry could darn well run me over if that was what he wanted to do, and there was nothing I could do about it. When does your big brother stop being your big brother?

**Soda's POV**

"What're you guys doing, taking a nap? Are we playing some football, or not?" Darry grinned at me as he walked into the living room with Pony on his tail.

"Watch it, little buddy, or you're gonna be joining our baby brother as a permanent lawn fixture in the lot," Darry warned.

"Yeah yeah, go put your turkey in the oven." I ducked Darry's swipe and gave him a punch in the ribs.

"Hey, Soda," Pony said.

I turned around to see Lin looking like someone had hit her. Again, I mean. She was pale and frightened looking. It took me a second to realize that she must have gotten scared seeing me and Darry fooling around. I went over to sit next to her, on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, while Pony fixed up the couch for her.

"Hey beautiful, we were just messing around. Darry's my brother, he'd never hurt me." I hoped she believed me, though she didn't look convinced. I guess she's done a lot of lying in her time, to keep people from knowing what was really going on.

"So who brought the football?" Steve shouted as he came slamming through the front door with Fizz on his heels. "I've got my linebacker here," he added, and Fizz beamed.

"Darry's in charge of equipment, man. I'm just here to play and eat." Melanie came over to stand behind me.

"I guess I'm the cheerleader," she said, pulling her skirt out a little.

"I'll run that ball clear to Texas if you're cheering me on," I told her, wrapping one arm around her waist. She smelled like roses.

"Alright," Darry said, coming into the room with a football in his hands, "the bird's in the oven. Liss, you're staying here with Linleigh?" Melissa nodded. "So all we need are teams. And where the heck is…"

"Are we serving cocktails before, or after, the match?" came Two-Bit's voice haughtily from the porch. He wandered through the front door with an open beer in his hand, stopping to take a closer look at Linleigh, who was making her way over to the couch. "Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Miss Linleigh?" he asked, smiling.

Lin blushed. "Hi, Mr. Mathews."

"Two-Bit, do you remember the names of all the kids you teach? I mean, babysit?" I couldn't imagine he would, but you never know.

"Now how could I ever forget a beautiful name like Linleigh?" he asked simply.

"Okay, we're all here, let's go!" Darry declared, herding us all out the front door.

**Pony's POV**

I nearly got shoved down the steps on the way out. We chose teams once we got to the lot – Darry, Vic, Steve, and Fizz against me, Soda, Jenn, and Two-Bit. Melanie had declared herself the allover cheerleader, since she wasn't dressed to play. To be honest, I think by the time we were done playing she was glad she hadn't gone home to change. She stood on the sidelines yelling things like, "This team, that team, everybody go!" and "Touchdown, kick it, I don't know the rules!"

It used to be easy to play tackle football when it was just us and our friends, but everyone was a little less crazy with Fizz and Jenn playing. Jenn apparently didn't make any alterations in her playing, however. She nearly knocked the wind out of me on one play, and she was on my team. Apparently she forgot. The other thing about her – whenever we used to have girlfriends playing, they liked being on the opposite team so they could get their hands around us more often or get pulled to the ground by us for a little playful rolling around. Jenn seemed a bit too competitive for that kind of nonsense. She was having fun, but no way was she letting Darry get that football from her.

The two of them were going back and forth, Jenn hugging the football, and Darry trying to get hold of her. She finally tossed the ball to Soda just as Darry was on top of her, falling to the ground with his arms around her waist. They hit the ground with a thud, Darry on the bottom, and Jenn screamed like crazy when Soda made a touchdown about two seconds later.

"Haha, Mr. Football," she mocked, "we're better than you!" Darry scooped up a handful of mud and tried to smear it on her face. She almost got away, in the end getting some across her cheek and over her nose.

"That girl is a real wiseass," Darry grinned as we all gathered together for the next play.

"Yeah," Vic agreed, "it's like you finally got Soda and Pony out of the house, and now you're dating both of them in the same person."

Darry's mouth dropped open, and Soda and I looked at each other and tried not to laugh. After he said that, I could see it, too – there was a little of both of us in her. They say girls marry their fathers and boys marry their mothers, but I never heard anything about big brothers dating their little brothers. Learn something new every day.

As it turned out, Darry did eventually end up running me over. It was unintentional, which didn't make it any less similar to getting bowled over by a locomotive. Neither of us was paying attention, and the next thing I knew I was hurtling in the opposite direction I'd been running, then Darry was coming down on top of me and we were both falling onto Vic. In an attempt to not crush him under both of our weight, I put my left arm straight down, which worked to divert our heading to the side. As soon as I put my arm down and Darry landed on me, though, I knew would be bad for me – I felt something in my left arm go and nearly screamed from the pain.

"Lord, Pony, are you okay?" Darry asked after he'd hauled himself off of me. Vic had gotten knocked to the side, but was sitting up brushing himself off, apparently unhurt.

I rolled over, clutching my arm and pretending it didn't hurt like crazy. "I'll be okay," I tried to tell myself out loud in a strangled voice.

Darry looked skeptical. "Bend your elbow," he told me. I sat up and tried to follow his instructions, but the pain was overwhelming, not to mention it was like there was a board inside my arm keeping it straight. "I think we're about done anyway," Darry proclaimed. We had been playing for over two hours – Melanie had gone back to the house almost an hour ago, and Steve looked ready to drop, trying to keep up with Fizz. Darry gave Soda a meaningful look.

"Right. Let's get back to the house, everyone," Soda suggested, and I knew that whatever Darry had in mind for me would hurt more than what I was feeling now. We sat in the lot and watched until everyone disappeared into the house.

"Alright, let's get this over with," Darry said.

I crammed some of my sweatshirt sleeve into my mouth as Darry took hold of my arm. It only took him a couple of seconds – a twist and a pull, and I could bend my elbow again – but a white-hot pain shot through my arm, and it was all I could do to not sob as the tears rolled down my face. I sat for a minute rocking back and forth with my head in my arm, waiting for the pain to subside and gasping for control.

"Thanks," I finally groaned to my brother, who was squatting next to me with his hand on my back.

I never asked Darry, but I always suspected that if he had been able to go to college when he was young he would have gone into sports medicine. He had picked up a lot from the team doctor when he played football in high school, and he was the one who always patched up our injuries after a fight. He's a natural at it.

"Let's get back inside now," Darry suggested, helping me to my feet.

Jenn was in the shower when we got back to the house. Soda had set the egg timer for three minutes per person, so we wouldn't run out of hot water. Steve and Two-Bit were planning to take showers at home, after they took a breather and had something to drink.

"Did Doctor Darry put your arm back together?" Steve quipped.

"Yeah, all better," I answered, though it still hurt. I pulled some ice out of the freezer and wrapped it in a towel, then sat down on the couch with Linleigh while Darry got me some asprin. I think I actually fell asleep sitting there, listening to everyone's mixed-together conversations and the sounds of pots and pans clanking in the kitchen.

By the time I woke up, the table was set and Melanie and Jenn were bringing food out. "Hungry?" I asked Lin, who was watching from her spot next to me. She smiled and nodded, so I helped her up and the two of us stumbled to the table.

"Melanie," I asked, "are you spending any of today with your family?" It seemed odd that she would spend the entire day with her new boyfriend's family, and that her family wouldn't have something to say about it.

"Oh, no, my parents are spending the holiday at a bed and breakfast up in New England," she explained. "That's where we were from, before my dad got the job he has now, and we moved here."

"Well, this is everything," Darry announced, bringing out a plate full of sliced turkey and setting it on the table. He had carved the turkey in the kitchen, where there's more room. We don't really do the Norman Rockwell scene; the food gets to the table, everybody digs in, and then we all sit around until someone gets voted to take all the dishes into the kitchen.

"Uhg." I looked at Melissa. She was staring at that plate of neatly lined up slices of turkey. One hand over her mouth, she suddenly jumped up and ran for the bathroom.

"Oh, the poor thing," Melanie crooned. "Does that happen often?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Vic beat me to it. "Only when we have food for dinner."

Note: Pony had a dislocated elbow. It can happen if you fall straight down onto your extended arm.

Expect a bit more action in the next chapter; I've had most of it written since I finished chapter 3, so it shouldn't take long for me to finish it either. Lots of Vic POV, too. Keep an eye out!

Now, for my reviewers:

Lee: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you liked the story. I've corrected the confusing point about when exactly Ponyboy is drafted – it is the summer he turns eighteen, sorry about that. I re-posted chapter 1 to make that clearer. As far as your other point of contention – I completely agree, it is extremely unlikely that Soda would have been in Vietnam for four years. I debated over it for quite a while and did a little research, and was aware that it would stick out like a sore thumb to at least somebody. But in the end I decided that the image I have of Soda, combined with the reason I came up with, were compelling enough to make it seem possible. Unlikely, but not unheard of. It is explained briefly in the next chapter. The closest analogy I could come up with over the past few days is from the movie Saving Private Ryan. When Tom Hank's character (it's been a while since I saw the movie, sorry) finds Private Ryan, tells him about his brothers, then tells him he is there to take him home, Ryan refuses to leave, saying something to the effect of, my mother would understand – these guys are my brothers, too (referring to the men he's been fighting with). It all has to do with me picturing Soda as someone who is street-smart, understands people and knows how to motivate them, and has brothers not dissimilar to the kids he is in charge of. Again, there is a quick mention of it in the next chapter. This is the longest review reply I've ever written! Anyway, hope this helps to make it a little more believable, and by all means, go ahead and critique as much as you want. I'll change what I can and try to explain what I can't change. Enjoy!

hollistergurl: Thanks. Yeah, Vic seems oddly decent, which is exactly what is driving Pony crazy, because it is too abnormal. Things will even out a little better in the next chapter, plus you've got a little of his POV in this one. Enjoy!

lil librada: Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed. I'm trying to get a little more Darry in. He's coming in within the next few chapters. Thanks for reviewing!

Mrs. Benji Madden: Glad you enjoyed, thanks for reviewing!

Keira: Thanks! That's so cool that you can check your email at school. Yeah, I'm from the dark ages – spend three days writing a program to do something really earth-shattering, like scroll the word "hello" across the screen over and over. I'm glad you like Linleigh, and her relationship with Vic. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Kind of a filler, but the next one is one of my favorites. Don't be too impressed, you haven't seen what my house looks like! That's a project for this weekend!

mrs sodapop curtis: Thanks, glad you enjoyed! Lin is ten years old.

callion: Thanks! The medical jargon was real, I did a little online research. Glad it came across well. Enjoy!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks! The next update shouldn't take long!

Katie: Thanks, that's quite a compliment! I'm glad you're liking the story. Enjoy!

virgil-t-stone: Thanks, glad you're enjoying! Is your story on this site?

Fairlane: Thanks, I'm glad you like it. Yeah, I can see the relationship between Vic and Lin pretty clearly in my head. Don't worry, Vic is most of the next chapter. I love writing him, he's got an edge to him that I've never had. Enjoy!

Scarlett7: Glad you enjoyed the update! I think Pony probably feels the same way. Hope you liked this one!

Star414: Thanks for the review! Yeah, Vic does seem suddenly perfect. He's had a lot of time to build up a few different masks. Pony noticed it, too (he mentions that Vic is living with a nice robot), and in this chapter we see that it's got Darry stumped, too. Hope you enjoyed!

Rock: Yeah, I heard it all right (hehe). I'm glad you liked the chapter so much! This one was a little more of a filler, hope you enjoyed it. Vic comes up much more in the next chapter, and things start happening a little more with him.

Tensleep: Glad you liked it! It was fun to write, I could see it all. Yeah, I guess you write what you know. Thanks for the compliments and the review, hope you liked this one. I'm guessing you'll like the next one better, it's my favorite.

screaming666: Thanks, glad you enjoyed! Yeah, I've met some pretty sorry doctors. Vic and Lin have a nice little thing going. Hope you liked this one!

kaz456: Thanks for the review, glad you liked it!

darkdestiny2000: Thanks! Soda isn't easy to write, glad to hear you like how he's coming across. Thanks for the suggestions; I have plans for Lin, it comes up in the next chapter. I wrote that one shot, it's posted as chapter 2 of The Chaperone. Enjoy!


	9. Out From Behind the Wood Pile

**Author's Note**: This is pretty fast updating only because I had the whole middle of the chapter written for the last month or so! This chapter is something of a turning point for one aspect of the story.

To the readers of The Empty Chair (wow, that sounds like a club or a cult or something), there's something in this chapter that might seem vaguely familiar, but I need to point out ahead of time that the outcome is quite different, so don't worry. That would have been a bit too bizarre for this story. Here, it came from my trying to put myself in Vic's shoes, and what I probably would have had hanging over my head, knowing me.

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Dedication**: This one is an early Happy Birthday to Keira, and a late one to Tens and Jhon. Keira, you've still got three days and a little more until you're old enough to be tried as an adult, so have a blast!

**

* * *

December 17, 1976  
Pony's POV**

Friday night. Sitting with the newspaper. Yepyepyep. I glanced over to the recliner, where Melissa and Lin were asleep. Linleigh had watched The Donny and Marie show, and then dozed off while Liss read a book out loud. Now they're both asleep. Vic is at some holiday dance at the school. In fact, I realized, he should be calling in about ten minutes. It was almost ten o'clock.

I had actually taken Linleigh to the group home the day after Thanksgiving. I put her suitcase in the trunk, she gathered what few belongings she had that weren't in the suitcase, and said goodbye to Vic, who was glaring at me, and Melissa, who was holding back tears. We had discussed it, though – having Vic was enough for now, especially with Liss not feeling well. I was concerned about her.

So I drove Linleigh to the home, signed her in, carried her bag to the room they had assigned her to, and we sat on the bed together for a few minutes, her looking around scared and me trying to not let on how miserable I felt about the whole thing.

I finally decided it was time for me to head out, before it got any harder. "Lin, I have to go now. You'll do fine here, these women are really nice. They'll take good care of you. And I'll come and visit you every week."

Lin had looked up at me, tears in her eyes, and quietly begged, "Pony, please don't leave me here."

I felt my legs get a little weak, like she had cast a spell over me, and I stammered something like, "Uh…o…okay." I signed her back out, put her stuff in the car, drove to my office, filled out all the paperwork, and had my supervisor sign it, and all the way back home there were only two thoughts running through my head – first, how am I going to explain this to Melissa, and second, God help me if this girl is living with me when she is a teenager, if this is how I react when she's only ten.

As it turned out, Liss knows me better than I know myself. She had the spare bedroom all set up for Linleigh by the time we got home.

I thought about how different Lin was from Vic. Vic puts up fronts, we only see shadows of him every so often peeking out, and then he retreats as soon as he realizes he's let his guard down. I don't know how much longer he can keep that up. Linleigh, on the other hand, just craves affection. She took us as her family almost from the beginning. She has a lot of issues that we're helping her to deal with, but instead of hiding from us and trying to remain aloof, she is friendly and welcoming almost to a fault. That's probably why she was withering away in her family's care – she kept waiting in vain for them to show her love and acceptance like a pet waits for the next meal that it has no control over, but no one paid attention and the bowl stayed empty.

I looked up at the clock. Two minutes after ten. I was getting a bad feeling. Vic is usually early with his calls. But he was only two minutes late, and I've told him he has until ten-after to make his call.

Three minutes after. I shifted around. No, something was wrong. I could feel it, like an intuition or a sixth sense or something. I wasn't waiting another seven minutes. I jotted down a note for Melissa, pulled on my shoes and jacket, made a couple quick phone calls, and headed out the door.

**Vic's POV**

I was just heading out of the cafeteria to make my hourly call-in when a strong hand came down on my left shoulder, and another around my right elbow. "Let's take a little walk," said the shoulder-gripper. "Mac wants to talk to you." I stiffened, but when I felt the tip of a blade pressed into the small of my back I kept my mouth shut and let them lead me away.

They took me out behind the school, around a couple of corners and into a darkened area back near the auto mechanics classroom. There were three other guys already there. Two of them looked tough and smug; the third one, being held tightly by the arms by the other two, looked weak and terrified. I'll never give them the satisfaction of looking like that, I thought.

"Looks like everyone's here. It's party time," said the biggest of the bunch in a even tone. He was about Soda's height, with arms that brought to mind the big oak tree at the back of Darry's yard. Man, I could use Darry right now. The big guy, who I figured was Mac, left his captive in the care of his buddy and strolled over to me. He walked right into my 'personal space' without pause, but I made a point of not backing up. He was inches from me. I could smell his sweat as his warm breath brushed my forehead.

"I'm not nice to little boys who steal my goods," he told me menacingly.

"Wasn't me," I answered, figuring that launching into a lengthy and pleading excuse would only earn me a broken jaw.

"Ain't no jury here, boy. My guy was waiting on his stuff, and I can't deliver." He clenched his fists and tightened his arms so I could distinguish every muscle and tendon bulging through his t-shirt sleeves. "My boss pressures me, I hurt you," he concluded.

"Dipshit," I muttered under my breath after he had turned and taken a few steps.

A sharp pain tore straight through my head, and I only remained on my feet because of the thugs still standing on either side of me holding my arms. Apparently Mac has decent hearing. He rubbed the back of his hand where it had connected with the side of my head and gave me a threatening look. Like hitting me wasn't enough to make me figure out that I should keep my mouth shut. I should have learned that years ago, really, this wasn't the first time my mouth had gotten me into trouble.

"Rip, I want you with me," Mac announced, and the guy holding my elbow let go and jogged obediently to his master, tail wagging. He might as well have had a tail, it was pretty obvious what he was to his boss. "Pel, keep that kid by the wall so he can watch. Don't do too much damage before I get to him."

Mac. Rip. Pel. Man, these guys are idiots. One syllable names, no one has to remember too many sounds. I should talk, with my name.

'Pel' dragged me over to the brick wall and slammed me up against it unnecessarily roughly, in my opinion, which I relayed to him. He took the front of my shirt tightly in both fists so he could pull me forward just enough to slam me back again, then held me there and smiled like a dumbass. "You keep an eye on what's going on over there," he suggested, though I knew it wasn't really a suggestion.

Mac, Rip, and Thug Number Four had dragged the terrified guy, who I recognized as a tenth grader, into a corner and were working him over. Every so often he would cry out, or beg them to stop, and they would laugh and come down harder on him. How dumb could that guy get? He was pleading with them again; I heard a sharp snap, and one of them punched him in the face to muffle his scream. I started to close my eyes, but thought better of it when Pel pressed his knife against my leg. He could have let off when my eyes instantly popped back open, but he didn't, and I got the feeling he'd been waiting for an excuse to cut me. How dumb could _I_ get? He pressed the tip of the blade slowly and steadily against my leg until it finally punched through my jeans and into my thigh; I let out a sharp audible gasp in spite of myself.

To be honest, I was at least as terrified as the kid they were beating the hell out of. These were not your random hoods out to mug whoever came along first. They meant business. They had a purpose, and they meant to fulfill it to appease the higher ranking 'officials' on their crooked ladder. It was a hierarchy, and I was unwittingly at the bottom and didn't have a voice. They didn't give a shit about me. If the big boss had told them to put a bullet in my head, that's what they would do, even if they had known without a doubt that I was innocent.

I thought regretfully back to the three cups full of punch that I had downed at the dance. I hadn't even been thirsty, it was just something to do to keep my hands busy and my mouth shut. Having a drink in your hand keeps you off the dance floor, too. Man, I wished I had taken a leak before ending up out here. It's a pretty dumb thing to be concerned about while you're waiting to get beat into the pavement, but all I could think about was how shitty it would be if I wet my pants while they were working me over.

I snapped back to reality when Mac appeared in front of me, blood splattered on his shirt and arms and an adrenaline-fueled smile across his face. "Now, I'm gonna beat the piss outta you," he told me dryly, and I wondered if he had any idea how true his words probably were. "You stole from me, and now you're gonna hurt for it."

He moved closer to me, breathing heavily over the strangled whimpering sounds of the bloody lump of a person he had left sprawled on the pavement behind him.

I started shaking. Damn! It was taking everything I had to maintain any control. I had never been so scared in my whole life. I had never been in a situation quite like this in my whole life. Me against my old man was a different story, even when it got bad. I decided to make a last attempt to save myself. Maybe Mac had a heart in there, or a soft spot, or even a little brother at home who resembled me. One can always hope.

"Mac," I began, trying to sound tough but aware that my voice was shaking almost as bad as I was, "someone got my locker combo. Someone's working against you. I swear I would never…"

My plea was cut short by another sharp backhand across the face, and I knew I was done for. I closed my eyes and shrank away against Pel's grip as Mac brought his fist all the way back and prepared to knock my head off.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," came a voice from behind Mac.

I almost started crying right there. I have never been so happy in my entire life to hear a familiar voice; right then it was the sweetest sound I could imagine. I will never forget that feeling. It was Pony.

I looked past Mac to see four figures standing threateningly shoulder to shoulder. I could just make them out in the dim light – Pony, Soda, Steve, and Darry – and they looked like the toughest group of guys I have ever seen. It almost scared me, the way they were all looking like they were ready to kill. Even Pony looked hard as nails. I wondered vaguely if Melissa had ever seen him looking like that.

Everyone had frozen when Pony spoke. Mac still had his arm back, but his fist wasn't clenched as tightly, and his eyes were darting back and forth as he realized he couldn't know the odds until he turned around. Pel had glanced over his shoulder and was trying to figure out what to do; he hadn't loosened his grip on me. I couldn't tell what Rip and Number Four were doing, with Mac obscuring my view to the side.

"Take your hands off my nephew," Soda said in an eerily quiet and biting voice. He was glaring arrows at the back of Pel's head, and I could see by the controlled energy seeping from him that he was ready for a fight.

Pel's sudden victorious expression took me by surprise, until I realized that he still had a blade in his hand. He would land in jail for a long time if he murdered me, but it would be his ultimate loyal sacrifice to his bosses if I didn't live to tell who these guys were. My throat constricted unexpectedly and irritatingly as my own death flashed before me.

"Blade," I choked out in warning as Pel started to bring his hand toward my ribs.

To this day I don't know how Pony and Soda were on top of him so fast. As soon as they made their move, all hell broke loose. Darry smartly grabbed the smallest guy and knocked him out cold with one blow, increasing their odds to four against three. I would say five against three, but I couldn't move. I stood there against the brick wall like I'd been mortared to it and wondered when I had turned into such a damn wuss. I've been in a lot of fights, most with worse odds than I had going for me here. I wanted to join in, but for some reason all I could do was stand there watching and hoping again that I wouldn't wet my pants.

Soda and now Steve had Pel on the ground, where Steve was prying the bloody knife – my blood, I realized in a detached sort of way – out of his hand and Soda was making pulp out of his face, swearing viciously with every blow. Darry and Mac were duking it out, and Pony was on the ground grappling with Number Four. Pony was swearing angrily too, and the more he swore, the more power he seemed to gain, until he had dragged the guy back to his feet and was beating the living crap out of him.

Pony finally let Number Four stagger away (I was surprised at how fast he was actually able to move, and he made it over the fence on his second try) so he could help Darry with Mac. They seemed to be fairly equal physically, but Darry was angry and Mac was caught off-guard, so Mac was getting the worst of it.

When it was clear who had won, the four of them let Mac and Pel go stumbling off swearing into the shadows in the night. Their boss would be pissed at them, if he even ever found out what had happened. More likely they would take the loss and not make themselves look like absolute idiots.

It was quiet then as everyone stopped and looked at me, and for a quick irrational instant I was almost afraid that one of them was going to come over and start pounding on me. I had never seen these people look like that, and never expected to. Darry's eyes were hard and cold, his jaw was clenched, and he looked like he could have torn someone's arms off. Soda had a look in his eyes that I couldn't place, but it was scary all the same; I would have avoided going anywhere near him if I didn't know him. Steve looked pissed as hell, and his eyes bore right through me like he didn't even see me. And Pony. His eyes were blazing, his fists were still clenched, his jaw was set, and I suddenly realized how glad I was that I wasn't capable of making him that mad.

After a couple of seconds the adrenaline of the fight started to wear down, and the more immediate issues came to the forefront. Darry and Soda rushed over to the tenth grader. "Steve…," Darry began.

"Ambulance," Steve finished, running around the side of the building.

I walked cautiously over to where my foster uncles were crouched on the pavement, and heard a low moan followed by a sharp gasp. Darry had turned the kid over slowly and was holding his head in his lap. I almost got sick. They had beaten him so badly, I didn't even recognize him as the person who had been standing in front of me not thirty minutes earlier. His nose, what I could see of it through the blood, was definitely broken; bruises were covering every square inch of skin that was visible where his shirt had pulled up out of place; and his right forearm was jutting off at an angle where they had broken it. I thought back to the sickening snap I'd heard when Pel had me up against the wall.

"Let's get out of here, Vic," Pony said from behind me.

I stood there for another few seconds. That could have been me. I could have been lying there right next to that kid, and no one would have found us until at least a few hours later. It struck me then that Pony's stupid call-in rule wasn't so stupid after all. He'd been able to watch my back from halfway across town.

**Pony's POV**

"Vic, lets go!" I snapped impatiently. The last thing we needed was for him to be here involved in all this when the cops showed up. A groan from behind me distracted me from my charge. The guy that Darry had knocked out was waking up. That was better, we could get him out of the picture. The other last thing we needed was to have another hurt guy, the only one awake and aware, making up a story to the cops about my brothers showing up and mugging him and the kid.

Soda strode over, hauled the guy to his feet, and shook him the remainder of the way to his senses. "Get the hell out of here before I rip off your balls and stuff them down your throat, you useless piece of pig shit," he snarled. I sensed Vic tense up beside me. People who don't really know my brother well tend to be surprised when he switches from his standard smiling demeanor to one of intently focused rage. You'd better watch out for him if you've messed with someone he cares about. That's how he ended up staying in Vietnam for as long as he did – he saw me in the eyes of every new kid in his unit, and when the end of each enlistment year would draw near, he would look at the person who was to replace him and know that if he left, more of those kids would die than if he stayed. Like I said, he was a great soldier.

I took Vic by the arm and led him to the car. He seemed a little out of it; I practically had to shove him into the front seat. There were sirens blaring in the distance, and my only thought was to get Vic out of there as quickly as possible.

I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street just in time to pass the police car that was on its way in. I let out a sigh. Thank God we'd made it in time. I didn't know what was going on with Vic and those guys, but I'd be damned if I was going to let the cops get it out of him before I did. This was going to be on my terms.

I looped around a one way street to head back to Darry's house. No way was I taking him home looking like this; Melissa would freak if the two of us walked into the house bleeding and bruised, not to mention that I was still a little hyped up from the whole incident.

"Pull over," Vic's voice cut into my thoughts.

"What?" I didn't get it until I glanced over at him. His legs were tightly crossed, with one hand pressed in between them against his crotch. "We'll be at Darry's in three…"

"Now," he said urgently. I pulled off to the side of the road and Vic shot out of the car like a missile. I sat in the car and waited while he took a piss on someone's front lawn. Finally he opened the door and slid back in. I turned the key in the ignition and put the car in gear.

"Wait," Vic said shakily. I looked across the seat at him. He was still pale and trembling, and I understood why he didn't want to continue on yet when I saw the tears rolling down his face. He wiped at them, but it didn't stop the release once it had started. Vic put his head down in his hands and sobbed. From what I've seen of Vic, he's a tough cocky little punk who doesn't get fazed by a beating or a new enemy. His breaking down now was giving me a good gauge for how serious tonight had been. I had the feeling things didn't end here.

I leaned over the back seat and grabbed the roll of paper towels that I keep in the car for wiping the windows and checking the oil. I ripped one off and handed it to Vic, then put my hand on his shoulder. I had expected him to jerk away from me, and was surprised when he actually leaned into my hand. I squeezed his shoulder to let him know I got it, and then waited until he was done crying. It only took a couple more minutes. He drew a shaky breath and wiped his face with the paper towel, then slumped against the door. "OK," he said, taking a deep breath, "we can go now."

By the time we got to Darry's, he and Sodapop had already arrived. Darry was pulling out the first aid supplies while Soda sat back in the chair drinking a glass of water. They both looked up when we walked in.

"How did that happen?" Darry asked Vic, indicating the bloody hole in his jeans.

"One of them stuck his knife in me," Vic answered tiredly.

"Take your pants off," Darry ordered. "Pony, you check him for anything else while I take care of this." We both did as we were told.

I checked out the bruises on Vic's face first. He had been backhanded at least once that I had seen, probably twice based on the bruises. Soda handed me a package of frozen peas. "Here," I told Vic, putting the bag of peas in his hand, "hold this on your face." I pulled his shirt up next, but couldn't find anything but some scrapes and bruises on his back. There wasn't much to do about that.

"You'd better hold onto something," Darry suggested. He had laid a plastic trash bag and a towel under Vic's thigh and was holding an open bottle of hydrogen peroxide over the knife wound. As soon as the clear liquid hit skin and began foaming, Vic shut his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw and his fists. I winced too, since my arm was inside of one of his clenched fists and his fingernails were digging into my skin. Darry gave it one more washing before packing gauze over the hole and taping it into place. "You need to keep an eye on this, it's a puncture wound and who the hell knows where that knife has been."

We all moved back then and looked at Vic. His color had returned, but he still looked a little shaky and pathetic. He was trying to put up his tough front, but sitting there in his underwear and t-shirt with a bruised up face and trembling hands, he wasn't pulling it off in the least. I wasn't about to let him out of it, either. The words of one of his attackers kept ringing through my head – 'You stole from me, and now you're gonna hurt for it' – and I had no intention of letting up on this kid until I knew exactly what was going on. He could have been killed tonight, and he knew it.

"Who were those guys?" I asked him.

"Mac, Rip, Pel, and I don't know the other one's name," he answered, knowing full well that I hadn't been asking for their names.

"What did they want with you?" I persisted.

Vic shrugged. "Looked like they wanted to beat the shit out of me I guess." He gave me his I-don't-feel-like-answering-your-questions look.

I had had enough. Gripping the front of his shirt with both hands, I pressed him against the back of the couch and looked into his face. "You are going to tell me what is going on," I explained calmly, though my voice steadily rose as I continued, "and you are going to tell me everything. We will sit here all night if we have to. Hell, I will have you strip naked and sit on a chair in the middle of the living room with a spotlight on you if that's what it takes; but you are going to answer every damn one of my questions without a damned attitude and without that damned cocky look on your face!" He actually looked like I was scaring him. Good. I didn't bother looking at my brothers, who I knew were staring at me. I don't usually rant like that. "I am going to let go of you now and go get a drink. When I come back I am going to ask you again who those guys were, and you are going to give me an answer. The right answer."

I let go of Vic and headed for the kitchen, where I got myself a glass of water just to be doing something out of the room for a couple of minutes. Darry had followed me and was leaning in the doorway. "Are you OK?"

I nodded. I felt surprisingly calm after stating my position so clearly. "I'm fine."

"You're sure you want to do this now?" he asked, though I knew he thought it was the best time as well as I did.

"He's still got that image of us fighting for him fresh in his mind. Some of that new respect might wear off by tomorrow. Let's do it now."

Darry and I grabbed some dining room chairs on the way back to the living room. Vic was still in the same place on the couch. We positioned the chairs in a semicircle in front of the couch, and I tossed Vic a blanket from the armchair before sitting down to start the interrogation.

"Does this have anything to do with the grass they found in your locker back in October?" I asked. The idea had occurred to me when I was in the kitchen, that the two incidents might be related. Vic nodded.

"Well? Start talking, kiddo."

Vic sighed, defeated. "A couple guys came after me last spring. I guess they scout out kids before they get into ninth grade. I don't know who they were, they came at me from behind and knocked me out. When I came to, I was blindfolded and tied up." Vic glanced around the room nervously, looking at everything but us.

"Go on," I urged.

"They pick out guys who wouldn't stand out if they got into trouble. We give them our locker combos, and they use our lockers to do their drug trafficking. Only someone took their supply out of my locker yesterday. That's it. If we get caught by the cops, we don't even know who they are to identify them. Not that any of us would, not after…"

Vic gave a quick shiver, and it wasn't from being cold.

"Vic?" Darry asked. "What happens if you tell someone?"

Vic shifted his gaze to his lap. "Remember that kid who got hit by the train last June?"

I did. The kid was maybe fifteen or sixteen; the papers said he had been drinking and got hit by a high-speed train. They were picking up pieces of him over a quarter-mile stretch.

"That was these guys?" I felt sick. Vic looked like he was actually about to be sick. I almost got up to get him a bucket, but he regained his composure enough to continue.

"Yeah. It was them. That kid went to the cops last year. I was blindfolded, but I could hear him screaming. They tied him…tied him to the tracks…" Vic's voice cracked, and he stopped talking.

"Glory, Vic, you were there?" Darry nearly shouted, and Vic jumped. My brothers and I exchanged horrified looks.

Vic nodded. "The guys from tonight, they're just a step above me. It goes way up, a whole network. You can't get any of them. You try to go after the ones you've had contact with, and the ones above them come after you. There's no way out," he finished weakly. He was terrified, and I didn't blame him.

"There's a way out of everything," Soda assured him. I hoped he had some sort of a plan, because I was stumped. If we went to the cops, they would do exactly what Vic was afraid of – they'd get who they could, and to hell with what happened to their informant afterward.

"Vic, look at me," I said. He barely lifted his head enough to make eye contact with me.

"I'm sorry, Pony," he breathed. "I'm sorry you had to get involved…"

"This isn't your fault," I interrupted. "We're your family. We are here for you. We will figure this out." I wished I felt as confident as I sounded.

"My family until July, anyway," Vic commented quietly.

"What? What're you talking about?"

"The baby comes in July," Vic explained. "You'll have your own kid. I'm going somewhere else. Right?"

I was shocked, though I don't know why. This had been an issue before. I had really thought that Vic understood he wasn't leaving. But every change in our life seemed to jolt him into thinking that we would give him up to someone else when he became inconvenient. I hadn't wanted to say anything too soon, since I didn't want him to be disappointed if things didn't work out right, but now seemed the time to let him know how serious we were.

"Vic, Liss and I are planning to adopt you." He looked up at me, startled. "The paperwork is all filled out. The only thing we're still waiting on is for the court to remove your mother's parental rights. It's taking longer than I hoped because they're trying to find her. Another three or four months, though, and they'll have met their statute of limitations and we can make it official. It's not me and Melissa, and you. It's all of us. You're part of our family. That's not going to change, no matter what you do or what happens in our lives. You're a part of our life, not a passing trend."

"You're adopting me?" Vic was genuinely startled and confused.

"We need to figure out what to do about the current problem," Darry reminded us all. I felt like I was switching gears faster than a drunken carnival worker.

"What we need," Soda suggested, "is someone who would know who the higher-ups are in this deal."

"Someone who knows every criminal and hood from here to the state border and back," I added.

The three of us looked at each other and answered ourselves in unison, "Shepherd."

"I'll go hunt him down tomorrow, see what I can work up," Darry offered. He reached over and patted the blanket over Vic's knee. "Don't worry, kid, we'll get you outta this."

"I guess sometimes it pays to have family from the wrong side of the tracks, huh?" Soda added with a grin.

Vic still had a stunned look on his face. Darry and Soda excused themselves then, apparently sensing that we needed a little time alone.

"Vic? Are you alright?"

He looked up at me, and for the first time in four months, I didn't see a mask, didn't see a tough exterior, didn't see a stranger. I just saw Vic. Fourteen years old, mother ran off, father got drunk and beat him, been through the group home three times and juvenile hall twice. It all showed through his eyes now.

From the beginning, Vic had made me think of a kid hiding behind the wood pile during a snowball fight who's been told too many times that the game is over, only to be hit in the face with another icy missile when he stepped out. Since he had moved in with us, he had been looking around the corner every so often, for an instant at a time, just long enough to see our faces, before ducking to safety again.

Now, for the first time, he had come into full view. He was tired and cold and hungry, and all he wanted was for someone to take him inside and warm him up. He was tired of wondering if the game was over, and he was putting himself at my mercy. I could see it so clearly, I almost offered him a cup of hot chocolate.

"Pony," he said, and when I saw the tears rolling down his face again I moved to sit next to him, put my arm across his shoulders. "I'm so tired, Pony," he sobbed, dark hair falling across his forehead and one hand over his eyes. "I'm so tired."

"I know," I answered gently, leaning him onto my shoulder, and he didn't resist. "I get it. But you can relax now. You're home."

Years later, Vic told me that even after the events of the next several months, it was that point in time, sitting on the couch with me in Darry's house with a hole in his leg and my arm across his shoulders, that he first truly understood and believed that he was no longer alone. He had found the family he belonged with – the only one he would ever turn to for advice, strength, and love for the rest of his life. Vic was our first one and, in the end, as different as we were, the one with whom I formed the strongest bond.

* * *

Review thanks now: 

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks! Hope you liked this chapter.

mrs sodapop curtis: This was a pretty quick update, since it was mostly written already. Hope you enjoyed!

Taurus: Thanks! I'm glad you like Jenn. She seemed like the type he'd go for. Dislocated wrist doesn't sound much better. Yeah, it's hard to think of Pony as a grown-up, so I'm sort of winging it. It's fun though, and easier as the story is developing. Hope you liked this one!

Keira: Just don't go reading this in English, it might get confiscated, then I'll have a firm teacherly review to contend with. Just kidding! Glad you liked the stuff with Linleigh. They couldn't just leave her off at the group home on Thanksgiving, that's how I saw it anyway. This chapter should have cleared up the confusion about Vic's behavior. I think he'll be even more fun to write about now, I've already got some 'big brother' stuff handwritten about him. Sorry I hurt your arm! Yeah, it's never happened to me, but when Rich played football in high school, one of the guys dislocated his shoulder, and he was crying. Thanks for the compliments, I guess we all kind of inspire each other. Have a great week! Eat lots of cake! And don't do anything illegal after Friday…

FoxFyre33: Thanks! Jenn's personality sort of evolved in my mind while I was writing the other chapters, and I realized that she was a little of both of them. Yeah, Vic's got a big mouth, and he can't help telling people the truth. Didn't work out too well for him in this chapter. Thanks for the compliments, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. I'm trying to keep it flowing as a whole group of people, centered around the original characters, and how the people around them now are affecting them. Some things from the past ten years also show up, so I'm hoping they come off as a little different than who they were "ten years ago." Thanks for the review, hope you enjoyed this chapter!

virgil-t-stone: Thanks, glad you enjoyed!

kiki-kirara: Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying. I guess the thing with Pony not getting what was going on with Vic has something to do with, real life and textbooks don't always fit together perfectly. I imagine him at this point just starting to understand the psyches of some of the kids he deals with. Darry and Jenn (and this wasn't pointed out anywhere in the story) have actually only been going out since about a week before Melissa's accident. That kept Pony pretty busy, and with Melissa feeling sick they haven't gotten out much to visit or had company. That was my view on it, anyway, so I figured that he was the one who kept missing meeting Jenn. Hope that makes sense, and hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Tensleep: Yeah, I think Vic is starting to see what he's got. It really struck him in this chapter, it was just out of his reach and willingness to believe before. I'm so glad you liked it, for you are awesome! Sorry, that was just funny. I love how you write! You rock too!

Tessie26: Thanks! I always thought of Darry as kind of the one who would take care of everyone, so I'm glad that made sense. Hope you enjoyed!

darkdestiney2000: Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed, and that was a nice compliment. Hopefully I don't start to slide. Vic makes me laugh, even though I'm the one writing him, with his reactions to other people. The little girl in the hospital sort of just happened out of the blue. Hope you liked!

kaz456: Thanks, that's a really nice compliment. I like to picture the events in my mind for a while before I write them down, so I can see the big picture. I'm glad that's coming across. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoyed this one!

Rock: Wow, usually my timing is off. I'm not very graceful, either. Glad I could help! I'm so glad you liked Jenn, it isn't easy coming up with the right women for these guys. Everyone has their own ideas, too, so yeah, it's good to hear when the one I came up with works for some people. Take care, hope you liked the chapter, and stay sane!


	10. Big Brothers

**A/N: **This has been my longest update lag! Sorry for any confusion about whether the story ended with the last chapter. I've still got a lot of stuff in mind, as long as everyone keeps liking it!

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Dedication**: Okay, this one's for Rock, who it seems to me would be a pretty good friend to have if I needed help. Enjoy the read and the weekend!

**Darry's POV**

I stepped into the bar and was immediately hit with a suffocating smog of cigarette smoke. How Ponyboy managed to suck on those things for so many years is beyond me. I was surprised to find the smell oddly comforting, though, bringing to the forefront the sense that my brother was somewhere nearby. I shook off the feeling and moved further into the room.

It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday, so not too many people had arrived yet for their weekend fill of booze, pool, and fights. There was a string of Christmas lights draped across the back shelf of the bar in a sorry recognition of the upcoming holiday, the only indication of anything decent in the place, but it came off as tacky. A couple of guys were playing pool, two people were sitting in a booth, and the guy who I assumed was the bartender half-heartedly moseyed behind the bar to see what I was ordering.

"What'll you take?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm looking for Tim," I replied. He almost looked relieved that I wasn't going to make him do any work, the prick.

"I don't know no one by that name," he drawled.

"Strange, since he signs your paycheck." I had been halfway around town and back again trying to pinpoint Shepherd's location. After a morning full of offering threats and providing a clearly busted jaw to one wiseass, I had ended up at a dirty little bar in the part of town where dirty little bars do their best business.

The bartender gave me a long stare. I stared back, fed up with all the run-around. Used to be if I needed to see someone from one of the other gangs, it took one question and ten minutes. Now, I was dealing with kids who were in diapers when I was out fighting with their current idols, and they're all a bunch of arrogant little punks. Hence the broken jaw.

"I'll get Curly," the bartender finally said, shuffling off into a back room.

Great. Curly. Now I'd have to deal with him. Hopefully he didn't get any smarter since he was a kid.

I leaned against the bar and watched the pool game that was going on. The guys playing were eyeing me suspiciously.

"Alright, I'm goin'. What the hell's wrong with you that you couldn't…" Curly, who was squinting blearily through red eyes and running a hand through his messy hair, stopped when he saw me.

"You're lookin' for Tim?" he asked me, visibly wracking his brain to remember where he had seen me before. I guess drugs don't help much when you're already not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"That's right," I answered simply. "And you ain't him."

"No shit," he replied arrogantly, though he didn't move any closer as I stood to my full height and crossed my arms. What a crock this all is – I went as far as to wear a tighter t-shirt and left my jacket in the car so anyone I had to deal with would have a clear image of what their face would look like if they didn't cooperate. It's been a long time since I've had to deal with people in this manner. I couldn't help feeling a hint of pride, though, that it was still working.

"I asked for Tim," I explained calmly.

"I'm his right-hand man," he answered proudly. "You tell me what you want, I'll get back to you. Eventually."

I walked slowly toward Curly, not stopping until he had backed himself into the wall. "You're not hearing me. You go tell Tim that Darrel Curtis is here to see him." I saw the light of recognition in his eyes then, but kept going. "If you can't do that, I will personally hand-deliver pamphlets to every junkie I can find in every corner, alley, and warehouse in the city telling them what's wrong with the Shepherd's supply, and how much better the Brumley boys' dope is. I'm sure those guys'd be happy to take over some of your business."

"You're Ponyboy's brother. The big one," he added unnecessarily.

"That's right."

Curly gave a little smile. "Those were some good days, I'll tell ya'. Okay, I'll get Tim. Stay here."

Curly wandered off to the back room again, and I heard the sound of footsteps ascending a stairway. Five minutes later there were footsteps coming back down, and Tim appeared around the corner, shirtless and jeans still unzipped, carrying a cup of coffee.

"Curtis," he greeted.

"Shepherd," I responded.

"Been a long time. Come on back."

I followed Tim to the back room, which turned out to be something like a store room with a ripped up couch and a table with chairs squeezed in. Tim flopped onto the couch, spilling coffee onto the already stained fabric. I decided it would be safer to stick with one of the wooden chairs.

"How are your brothers?" he asked.

"Good. Soda has a business working on cars, rents a garage downtown. Ponyboy works for social services. Married, baby on the way."

Tim nodded approvingly. "You did a good job with them, Darry. They was always good boys."

"Thanks." I waited patiently for Tim to get around to finding out what I wanted.

"So I ain't seen you around much. Working hard?" He took a sip of his coffee and stretched out leisurely on the sofa.

"Yeah, I'm running the business now. We stay busy."

"Good, good. So what can I do for you? Or is this a visit for old-times sake?" he joked, knowing I would never have come looking for him just to chat any more than he would've come looking for me to have a spot of tea.

"It's about my nephew. He's in ninth grade, and someone's got him roped into being a middleman in a drug game." I could see Tim was doing the math. He's not a stupid guy. "He's Ponyboy's kid," I explained. "They're adopting him."

Tim nodded understanding. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem is, he's a good kid, and we want him out of this. Four guys came after him last night, would have beat him half to death if we hadn't come along and jumped in."

"This the deal with the lockers?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. He got nabbed last spring. They leave stuff in his locker as a drop-off point. He already got hauled in for it once."

"It ain't my game, but I know who's helping run it. You give me his name, and I'll see what I can do."

"Not good enough," I answered. "I need to know he's out of it."

Tim laughed. "You were always a smart one, Curtis. If you hadn't been so damned concerned about your brothers and your future, you could've run half the East side." He sighed and gazed into his coffee for a minute. "Alright, what's it worth to you? I'm in a high position, ya' know. Can't just hand out favors like lollipops at the bank. Wouldn't be good for my rep."

I had known that was coming. Everything comes at a price. "Just tell me what you want, Tim. And make sure I'm not gonna land in jail for it."

Tim smiled. "You're a good guy, Curtis. We had us some good times. Remember that fight over at the river? What were we, about fifteen? You was always good in a fight, you kept your head better than anyone. You broke that guy's arm, remember? He must've been two years older than us." Tim stopped, remembering with fond nostalgia things that I had never even told my brothers about. "Alright, I got somethin' for ya'. Probably won't even have to hit nobody. I need to collect some money from some…girls…that work for me. Curly'll give you the addresses, or tell ya' where you can find 'em. All you need to do is get the money. And watch for the guys who monitor those girls. They'll try to keep too much of the cut."

"Fine. I collect your money, you get the dealers off my nephew's tail." I held out my hand, which Tim shook.

"You got it, buddy. You can go ahead out the front way. Stop by in a few hours for the list."

I saw myself to the door, reasonably satisfied with the outcome. Vic gets an out, and all I need to do is collect some money from a few whores.

**Pony's POV**

I had woken up early on Saturday morning, like around four o'clock, to Melissa's soft sobbing next to me. Vic and I had left Darry's around one and snuck into the house, but Liss and Lin were both in bed already.

"Melissa?" I whispered groggily. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry I woke you. I'm just so tired of feeling sick," she sniffled.

"Oh, honey, is there anything I can do?" I felt so bad for her. It seemed so unfair that she had to go through all this. I would have done anything for her right then.

"Just hold my hand," she said.

I curled up behind my wife and draped my arm over her body to hold her hand. She held it up to her face, letting the tears roll down it, and was asleep again before I was. I ended up laying there for a while longer, feeling her warmth, smelling her scent, hearing her breathe, before I drifted off again.

I woke up again around nine o'clock and carefully slid away from Melissa. I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt, then headed out into the hallway, expecting the house to be quiet.

When I stepped out of the bedroom, though, I heard voices coming from the living room – Vic and Lin were already up. The tone Vic was speaking in stopped me in my tracks. I made my way silently down the hallway and stopped before I reached the living room doorway. I could see Vic and Lin standing in front of the couch; he was already dressed in a concert t-shirt and jeans, but she was still in her pajamas. They didn't notice me leaning on the wall in the dark hallway. Lin was waving something at Vic.

"Lin, I'm warning you. Give it back," Vic told her in an icy voice.

She had found his switchblade and had it flicked open. That's what she was waving at him.

I wasn't sure if I should intervene, and was surprised when Linleigh smiled. "Why don't you just take it back, tough guy?" She was enjoying herself.

"Linleigh," Vic warned again, "give me the knife. Don't think that because you're my sister I'll treat you any different than some thug on the street."

"You're just afraid of me," she replied. Her head came about up to his chest. "You know you'll never get it away from me without getting hurt."

Vic sighed. "Don't back me into a corner like this. I'll give you one more chance. If you don't hand me the knife like a good little girl, I'm gonna hafta get mean. I'm warning you – I can take that knife away from you without even touching it, then I'll have you on your knees begging for mercy." His voice was calm, and he sounded serious. I couldn't imagine where he was going with this, but Lin didn't seem to feel threatened in the least.

In fact, she smiled at him again. "Just admit it – I'm tougher than you." She held the knife out in front of herself.

In one swift sudden movement, Vic snatched Lin's wrist and held it over her head. "I've still got the knife," she pointed out victoriously, clutching it tightly. Vic would have cut his palm open if he tried to take it out of her hand. Luckily that wasn't what he intended to do. Grinning down at his new sister, he used his free hand to tickle under her arm and down to her ribs. Lin screeched and tried unsuccessfully to twist away from his firm grip; there was a clank as the knife hit the floor.

"Oh, look," Vic mused, "you dropped something."

"Stop," Lin squealed, laughing uncontrollably. He was still holding her arm above her head, tickling her.

"I warned you, kid – just like some thug on the street." She strained to pull away, batting at him uselessly with her free hand. Vic gave her just enough slack to sink down onto her knees.

"Please!" she cried.

"What was that?" Vic asked innocently. "Were you begging for mercy?"

Tears streaming down her face and apparently laughing too hard to be able to speak, Lin just nodded. Vic ended his torment instantly and let go of her wrist. He was her brother, alright.

Arms crossed and still giggling, Lin looked sheepishly up at Vic from the floor. "Okay," she conceded, "I guess maybe you're a little tougher than me."

Grinning and shaking his head, Vic reached down and helped Lin to her feet.

"I guess things on the street are getting rougher than I'd imagined," I said, walking into the living room. Vic turned bright red. I winked at smiling Lin as I passed them on my way to the kitchen to make breakfast.

- -

"Pony?"

I looked up from my book to see Vic standing next to the chair, giving me a meaningful look.

"Yeah?"

"I need some help with that thing. You know…in my bedroom." He glanced over at Melissa, who was sitting on the couch watching an old movie on television.

"Oh…right. That thing. Sure."

"You don't need to speak in code," Melissa piped up. "I don't need to know everything that goes on around here. If you need to talk about something, go talk."

Vic and I gave each other a guilty look. "Let's go," I told him, getting up and heading for his bedroom. I closed the door behind us. "So what's up?"

"Did you hear anything from Darry?" Vic sat on the bed trying to look casual, but I could hear the concern in his voice.

"Not yet. He knows what he's doing, though, and he knows how to deal with the guys he's looking for. Darry and them go way back. I guess we all do. Is that it?"

Vic shook his head. "No. It's my leg. It's hurting more, and looks kind of red."

"Damn. Alright, let's take a look."

Vic lowered his jeans so I could pull the tape and gauze back. Sure enough, and as Darry had predicted, the knife wound looked like it was getting infected. Vic jumped when I pressed around it. "Sorry."

"So what do we do?" It was still a little strange having Vic so abruptly looking to me for advice and talking to me with some respect, but it was nice. It was kind of like having a little brother. I could say son, but I'm not exactly old enough to be his dad, and it's hard for me to look at him that way, even though I'm his guardian and take care of him. I wondered if it had been the same for Darry. I had always assumed he just felt like a parent when he had to start taking care of us.

"We need to get you over to the clinic. They won't ask questions, and all you should need is a round of antibiotics. Get ready, we'll go over now."

"What're you going to tell Melissa?"

I shrugged. "I'll just tell her you got in a fight last night. To be honest, I don't think she'll really want the details. She trusts me enough to know when to tell her what she wants to know."

"Hey Pony?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks again for last night. Nobody ever did anything like that for me before. Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for."

"And Pony?"

"Yeah?"

Vic grinned. "I just need to know – there's nothing I could ever do that would make you as mad as you were at those guys last night – right?"

I grinned back. "Get yourself ready. We're leaving in five minutes." Interestingly, I didn't have to say it twice.

**Darry's POV**

This was the absolute worst job I could have imagined. Curly handed me a list of eleven women. I'm using the term 'women' loosely. A couple looked no more than fifteen. Some of their "addresses" consisted of street corners or alleys. A few of them were drunk, stoned, or passed out. And it took forever to track a couple of them down.

The only good thing I had going for me was that they seemed to feel threatened by me, if you want to consider that a good thing; but overall they didn't give me a problem with the money. Maybe it was my all-business demeanor. I just wanted to finish up and get back home to spend some time with Jenn.

I felt bad for a couple of the girls. One of them really seemed to have only about half of the money and was obviously covering for someone. She looked torn between who she was more afraid of – me, or the guy she was protecting. Her 'name' was Rosepetal, and she was one of the ones who looked too young to be out of school, much less wandering around the streets soliciting sex from men twice her age.

After about ten minutes of contrived explanations, tears, and pleading, the poor girl was shaking in her boots and I imagine thinking that I was about to tie her up and throw her in the river or, at the very least, give her a good working over. Based on the scars and bruises that she was trying to cover with makeup, I figured this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

"Stop," I finally told her, holding up my hand, and she flinched. I put my hand back down. "Just tell me who's taking the money and where to find him. Then you won't have to deal with this problem any more. Okay?"

Rosepetal peered suspiciously at me through frightened eyes, but after a minute she relaxed a little. "His name is Jared. He hangs out by the pool hall over by the river, between the laundromat and the old movie theater."

"Fine. Don't worry, I ain't gonna tell Tim. Your cut will be in the envelope one way or the other, if I have to put it there myself." She looked startled, then grateful.

"If you ever want to come by," she started, "you know, for a free one…"

"Thanks, but no. It's not my thing." What else was there to say? Nothing I said was going to get her off the streets, she didn't even know me. It made me feel sick.

I tracked down Jared and dragged him out into the alley for a lesson in hierarchy. It didn't take him long to agree that Tim was, in fact, the boss, and that he would be in a lot more pain if Rosepetal's cut was ever short again. He had no idea he would never see me again, so I had no problem making threats left and right.

The whole time all I could think was how glad I was that this wasn't the path I had taken, and that my brothers had had the good sense to listen to me and keep out of trouble. It could have gone either way a few different times, especially when I started pushing Pony hard and he resisted. It took us a while to strike a balance and come to terms with each other, but in the end I learned how to give him some space and he learned how to deal with and eventually appreciate my persistence about his education.

It was getting dark out by the time I reached the last address. It was a house, and as I opened the creaky front gate I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been there before. Most of the houses in that part of town look alike, though, and my company's done a lot of work there. I found we got better business from the big places by doing some inexpensive residential roofing. Word of mouth is the best marketing.

I rang the doorbell, which didn't work, so I knocked on the door. There was the sound of feet running across the floor, and a little girl answered the door. "Yes?" she asked, looking up at me. Why did she look so familiar?

"I'm looking for…Butterfly," I told her, referring to Curly's scrawled handwriting.

"Who is it?" someone called from inside.

"He says he's looking for a butterfly," the little girl called back, and I smiled in spite of myself.

"Okay, honey, I'll take care of it." An older girl moved the younger one out of the way, hurried onto the porch, and closed the door behind her, speaking in a desperate voice as soon as the little girl was out of earshot. "Oh, God, I won't have the rest until tomorrow. My brother got sick and I had to get some medicine, but I didn't have enough left from my paycheck…oh God, please don't hurt me, not in front of the kids, I swear I can get the money…"

Her voice was shaking, and it wasn't until she finally looked up at me in the dim light of the porch that it all came rushing back to me; her brow wrinkled in confusion first, then recognition crossed her face. She turned red and put her face in her hands. "Oh no…oh no…"

I could only think of one shocked thing to say. "Tracey?"

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed! On to the reviews: 

Reviewer: Here it is, the update!

Tsuppi: Thanks, I'm glad you thought it fit so well, and I appreciate the compliment. Hope you enjoyed!

goldengreaser: Wow, that's so nice to hear! Sorry Pony's profession isn't working for you. I didn't find anything in the book to indicate that he had any malice toward social workers, but even if he had, this was more along the lines of, he saw a lot of kids that needed help, and it all got narrowed down to this being the best way he could get to them on a daily basis. That's just my opinion, I think there are lots of other careers that would make perfect sense for him, too. Hope you enjoyed!

callion: Thanks, I'm glad you liked the analogy. Yeah, you can't be held too responsible for the things you did when you were six. Glad you like Jenn, hope you enjoyed this chapter!

BonnieBlackCat: Wow, thanks. I think I'll have trouble topping that last chapter, though! Hope you enjoyed!

Just Playin: Thanks! No, I was afraid some people would think I had finished it. There's a lot more coming, I just keep going off in different unexpected directions. Hope you liked!

darkdestiney2000: No, it wasn't the end, sorry for the confusion! Yeah, this was one of my favorite chapters to write, and to read afterward. Hope you got better fast, and hope you enjoyed chapter 10!

mrs sodapop curtis: Wow, that's a great compliment, thanks! Hopefully the next chapter doesn't have such a long update lag. Hope you liked!

Aslan: Thanks, glad you liked it. It's my personal favorite, though I've got something coming up down the line that might be comparable. Thanks again, hope you enjoyed!

kaz456: Thanks, glad you enjoyed!

Tensleep: I had a feeling you would like that chapter, I don't know why. I liked the part where Steve finished Darry's sentence, too – it just sort of popped out without me expecting it. Don't you love when that happens? Hope you liked this chapter; not as much action, a little more Darry, and now some more loose ends. Happy Friday!

Rock: Thanks, I'm so glad you liked it so much! It'll be hard for me to keep up with the expectations now I think. That one just came so easily. I'll have to get some more action in this story I guess. Wasn't too fast on this update, but hey, I'm just starting to get some of my energy back now. Yay!

Keira: Yeah, I remembered. So how is 18 treating you? Feel all grown up now? Me neither, and that birthday was quite a while ago. I'm just playing house here. Thanks, I'm glad you liked the chapter. I wrote it a while ago and had a really good feeling about it. I actually couldn't wait to post it, but so much other stuff was happening in between. Think I should add some more Shepherd? I wasn't sure how I did with him, or if I should keep him in the picture.

Tessie26: Thanks, glad you enjoyed! Yeah, I couldn't imagine them not taking her in. I'm glad the parts with Vic opening up were realistic. I could only imagine. That's a really nice compliment, comparing to the book, thanks so much. I didn't put Two-bit in mainly because I didn't want over-kill. I figured if Pony called Soda or Darry and one happened to know where the other one was, and maybe Steve was with Soda, that was about all they would have time to hunt down. Hope you liked!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thank you, glad you liked it so much!

screaming666: Thanks, glad you're enjoying! Chapter 9 is my favorite so far.

Fairlane: Thanks so much, I'm glad you liked it. I was kind of on the edge of my seat when I was writing it, if you can believe that! Yeah, I figured if these are guys that Ponyboy described as "tough as nails" and "neither of my brothers had ever lost a fight", they couldn't have lost much if anything in ten years. Pony was harsh with Vic, but I figured he wanted to get to the bottom of things for Vic's safety, one way or the other. Hope you enjoyed this one!

virgil-t-stone: Thank you, that's a really flattering compliment. Hope you're still enjoying, sorry for the confusion!


	11. Reflections

**A/N**: Thanks for being patient, sorry for the long update lag; I'm dealing with a bit of Melissa's issue, on top of having to occupy, entertain, feed, and dress my other two little guys.

As the invisible reviewer pointed out, Tracey is the girl from chapter 4 that had the flu, and Pony helped her out. I hadn't expected most of the reviewers who've been reading from the beginning to pick up on that right away, since it wasn't a big part and it was quite a while ago. I have to say that I was really impressed with the reviews I got for the last chapter – specifically, the overall mature attitude regarding Tracy's choices. I guess there's a little bit of Darry in all of us. Hope you like his reaction; I couldn't imagine any other coming from someone who Pony described as, "He doesn't understand anything that is not plain hard fact. But he uses his head." To me, it's that analytical confidence that doesn't allow for much nonsense. Last note: as you're reading, think about the title of the chapter; I hadn't realized when I titled it that it's got a double meaning here.

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders

**Dedication**: This one goes out to all of my reviewers; you keep me motivated, even when I'm nauseous!

* * *

**Darry's POV**

I had to blink and look again, and still had trouble believing what I was seeing. "Tracey?" I repeated in astonishment, as if saying it the first time hadn't made it quite true.

She looked up at me. "Darry, look…"

"Is there somewhere inside we can talk?" I interrupted. The front porch hardly seemed like the place to discuss Tracy's new profession, especially with two of her siblings peering out the front window.

"Sure, come inside." She led me into the house. "You kids stay right out here and watch television, okay? I've got some things to discuss with Mr. Curtis."

I followed Tracey into one of the bedrooms and closed the door behind us. "Tracey, are you crazy? What is wrong with you, getting into something like…"

"You don't understand!" she snapped. "I'm not making enough at the diner. Something always comes up. One of them gets sick, or needs something for school…I just never have enough."

"Do not tell me that I don't understand. I was in the same position as you not too long ago."

"It was different for you," she argued. "Your brothers were older, they could take care of themselves if they needed to. Do you know what happened at school last month? Kids were teasing my little sister because she wears second-hand clothes. She doesn't deserve that!"

"Look, I know it's hard to make ends meet, but this is not the way to do it. How much are you short every month?"

She shrugged. "Maybe thirty or forty bucks. They turned off the phone for a while a couple months ago."

"Tracy, there has got to be something else you can do for another thirty or forty dollars a month. You know you have people who will help you – Steve, Pony, me. And Pony put you in touch with that church group…"

"I'm sick of taking charity!" she exploded. "Do you know how much I'm getting with this? At least ten bucks a night. Ten bucks! Sometimes twenty. And that's in addition to what I'm making at the diner during the day!"

I shuddered at her stupidity. "And what are your brothers and sister doing while you're 'working'?" I spat. "What exactly have you told them?"

"They stay in the other room," she explained weakly, looking guilty. At least she was aware of how pathetic this all was. "They have no idea what goes on in here. They think the men are just here to give me things to type for them."

I nodded. "Right. Out in the other room. Are you doing drugs, too?"

"No!" she shouted defensively, then backed down a bit. "Well, sometimes one of the men brings something over that he wants me to do before we get started. But it's just for the job, I never do it on my own!"

She must have picked up on my blatant disgust, and tried again to justify her actions. "Look, it isn't like anyone's getting hurt. The men get something out of it, I get more money than I'll ever get just waiting tables, and the kids don't know one way or the other. You're…you're not going to tell Pony, are you?" she finished desperately.

I didn't answer for a minute. What was I supposed to say? I knew exactly what she was going through. I also knew how tempting it was to get involved in something shady with all that money dangled in front of you, especially as you watched your brothers' clothes fall to shreds before you could afford new ones, and you did everything you could to keep the house from crumbling around you. Then there's the bill paying – do I pay the electric company this month, or the gas company? And how do I cover the extra I needed to spend when the water heater broke? I had been there, alright, and I knew there were other ways around it. I knew there were always people willing to lend a hand; it was up to me to swallow my pride and ask.

I looked over at Tracey. "You've got three days to figure out another plan," I told her. I wasn't sure what I was going to do in three days – it didn't feel like my business to tell Pony about it, since if he knew, he would have no choice but to take the kids away from her – but I figured three days would give her time to rethink her life, and me time to figure out where my place was in all this. I left Tracey standing there in shocked silence and went back out toward the front door.

"Did you give her the money?" the oldest boy asked from the couch.

"What?"

"Did you pay her? Some of them try to leave without paying." His demeanor was calm and rational.

"That wasn't what I was here for," I told him. "What exactly do you think it is your sister does?" I asked as an afterthought.

"Well, we don't have a typewriter, so I guess I know pretty well what she does." He turned back to the television and reached into the bag of cookies that was sitting next to him.

I walked out of the house knowing exactly what I was going to do in three days.

**Pony's POV**

"Here's a gown; you'll need to take off your pants, and leave the gown open in the back." The nurse handed Vic the gown and disappeared into the hallway.

Vic followed the nurse's instructions, I tied the gown, and he and hopped up onto the examination table, shifting his weight as he pulled at the gown so he wasn't sitting on it. "How long do you think this will take?"

"Well," I reasoned, "we're finally back in an exam room. How much longer can it possibly take, after they had us sitting in the waiting room for three hours?"

An hour later I went out to the nurse's station for the third time to find out where the doctor was. "I'm sorry, Mr. Curtis, but we're very busy today, and there are only three doctors on duty. We'll have someone in with you as soon as possible."

I wondered why they didn't just print that all up on flyers and hand it to anyone who asked. I had gotten the exact same response all three times. It hardly seemed worth it for them to waste more time saying the same thing over and over.

I went back to the room to sit with Vic. It was getting a little uncomfortable. We had run out of things to say sometime back in the waiting room. There was nothing to read, nothing new to look at…

"What do you think they do with those?" Vic asked, breaking into my thoughts. I looked at the item he was pointing to, which contained several tubular tendrils and looked suspiciously like it was supposed to be put somewhere that nobody in their right mind would want it to go.

"I'm not sure I want to know," I answered.

"Do you think anyone ever died in this room?"

How had we gotten onto something so morbid? "I really have no idea, Vic, though I doubt it. Why, did you see a ghost?"

He gave me an annoyed look. "Yeah. Looked kind of like you, in fact. Said he came from the future, some smart-alec kid with a hole in his leg took him out with a piece of hospital equipment…"

"Dream on, wiseass."

Vic gave me a sly grin. "You don't think I could take you on?"

I grinned back. "No. Do you?"

He shrugged. "Maybe in a few years."

"And with a couple of your friends," I added.

Vic looked down at the floor and fiddled with the edge of his gown-thing. "Pony?"

"Yeah?"

"After you guys adopt me…what do I call you?"

I hadn't expected that, so I was a little taken aback. "Hmmm…well, I'd say Pony is just fine, unless there's something else you want to call me. Within reason," I added quickly as Vic opened his mouth to make a smart comment.

"Well, here I am, sorry it took so long. Busy busy today." The doctor was looking down at the clipboard in his hand that held the paper we had filled out four hours earlier. "Knife wound, eh? Let's take a look." He looked up at us and extended his hand to me. "I'm Dr. Adderson. Are you Victor's father?"

Vic made a face at the sound of his full name, but stifled a laugh at the suggestion of me being his father. "I'm his foster father," I explained; I couldn't stop looking at that doctor, it felt like I'd seen him before. "Pony Curtis."

The doctor stopped and stared at me, mouth agape. "Ponyboy?" he said quietly. "My god, how long has it been?"

It took me only another instant to place him, after he said my name. "Randy?"

Randy Adderson, Doctor Adderson, Bob Sheldon's best friend, one of the guys who tried to drown me when I was fourteen, the soc who had turned out to be a regular guy – held out his hand to shake mine. I smiled and shook his hand.

"I guess I haven't seen you since…" I trailed off, suddenly remembering vividly the last time I had seen Randy. Old emotions came rushing back at the memory, and I quickly turned them off.

"It would have been that day in…in court. Right?" Randy finished for me. "I left after that to live with my aunt up in Baltimore."

"Yeah, it's been a long time," I added; it had been a century ago. Or had it been yesterday? One seemed as likely as the other.

"So how've you been?" he asked.

"Not bad. Spent some time in Vietnam, went to college; I work for social services now." The last ten years of my life, summarized in one short sentence. It hardly revealed any of what had actually occurred, but college is college, and Vietnam – there was only one person who knew the real story of my experience over there, and I planned to keep it that way. Not even Melissa knew.

Randy nodded. "I finished high school up in Baltimore, then went on to college, then med school at John's Hopkins. Just finished a few months ago." I wondered how much of his life he had just deleted in his summary. It hardly seemed worth it to go any further, though. Sometimes it's better to just start where you are now, and let the ghosts from your past re-enter without a lot of background or explanation. We both knew we were different people from the kids who had nearly killed each other, and who thought nothing of attacking someone else just because of their social status. It was still happening, the fighting over nothing tangible, nothing heartfelt, but you don't learn how pointless it is until it's over, and you've grown up and seen that there are real enemies more vicious, more lethal, than any we could ever create in our youth. And some people never learn.

"So you decided to come back home?" I asked, truly interested in the workings of the mind of someone who had left for a "better" world, only to return to the now-unfamiliar one they had rejected.

"Yeah; I'm doing my residency with a private practice, and put in one day every other week here," he explained, then shrugged. "I guess it isn't the _place_ that you need to get away from. You know?"

"Yeah, I know." And I did. I knew exactly what he meant.

Vic loudly cleared his throat from the table next to us. "My leg?" he reminded Randy.

Randy smiled. "Right. Let's take a look." He had Vic move the gown over and pull the gauze off to expose the wound, which was red and starting to seep a little. I felt a pang of guilt at not bringing him in right away, though I knew they would have just told me to take him home and watch for signs of infection.

Randy pressed lightly around the puncture; Vic jumped and tried to not allow his expression to give away the pain. "We should be able to clear this up within a couple of days with some oral antibiotics. I'll give you an antibiotic ointment, too, that you'll need to apply twice a day. And it wouldn't hurt to take one or two warm baths a day." Randy pulled a prescription pad out of his pocket and scribbled some unintelligible drabble on it that I figured the pharmacist would inexplicably be able to translate.

He ripped the page off the pad and handed it to me, then turned to Vic. "You're a lucky kid, winding up with this guy," he told Vic. "If he'll take on a burning building to save a bunch of kids he'll never know, I can only imagine how far he would go for a kid who lives in his own house." Randy turned back to me and extended his hand again. "Take care, Ponyboy. It was good to see you. I really mean that."

I shook his hand again. "You too, Randy. It was good to see you, too." Randy turned and left the room. I stood watching the door for a few seconds before pulling myself back to the present; I reached back and got Vic's pants off the chair for him.

"Was that guy a friend of yours?" Vic asked.

"Not really. He's a guy I knew a long time ago." I realized then that Vic knew the whole story; he just didn't know that he knew. I hadn't told him that the story he'd read in English was mine, that the people he had cried over at the end were my friends. He didn't know I knew that; he had been reading the end of the story in the living room one night, and I discreetly watched him; I don't know why, I guess maybe I had to know if it had a visible effect on anyone. Had I actually brought those people back to life? Had I made someone understand us and feel for us? Vic had finished the book-thing, and quickly left the room wiping his eyes.

I handed Vic his pants. "Get dressed. I need to tell you something."

**Vic's POV**

Pony untied the gown for me so I could get it off and get my pants back on. I was so sick of the clinic by the time we were leaving, I would've just gone ahead and bled to death or something before I walked back in there again.

"So what's the big secret?" I asked on the way out to the car. It all seemed a little dramatic, the way Pony was waiting until we were on our way to tell me whatever it was he wanted to tell me. I figured it was something about that doctor, but to be honest I wasn't even all that interested in how they knew each other. I had just asked to be saying something. I thought maybe Pony would say something like, "yeah, we went to school together," or some such connection. I hadn't bargained for a big explanation, and was a little too tired to care right then. I really just wanted to get that medicine for my leg. It hurt all the way through, more than it had right after it had happened.

Pony let us both into the car and turned on the engine and the heat, then sat back. "That doctor, Randy – I knew him back when I was fourteen. He was one of the rich kids. One night him and a bunch of his friends came after me and one of my buddies, Johnny, in a park. They were drunk. They tried to drown me in the fountain, but Johnny fatally stabbed Randy's best friend, Bob." He stopped talking for a minute.

"Come on, Pony, I read that story, too; it's the one I had to read for my English…" Pony turned and gave me an expectant look, and realization slowly dawned on me. Why hadn't I seen it before? It seemed so obvious now – the bizarre names, the three brothers… "It was you," I said. "You wrote it. You're Polokid." Pony winced at the alias.

"Yeah. It was me. It was us. I wrote it." Pony took a deep breath and stared off into the setting sun; he looked like he was a million miles away. Or maybe just ten years away.

I felt like I had The Ghost of Christmas Past sitting next to me. I didn't know what to say. I knew those people in the story by the time it was over. I knew them, I felt for them, I understood them. And as it turned out, some of them were the people who had become my family.

"So the guy that died – his name was Johnny?" He had reminded me of myself, only without the obnoxious side. His dad hitting him, having to go to his friends' house for safety; only I hadn't had anyone to go to. I had friends, but we moved twice in three years, so no one that was like family.

Pony nodded.

An idea struck me. "Pony?"

"Yeah?"

"He's why you took me home, isn't he? You took me home because of Johnny. Because I didn't have anyone. That's what you were telling me at lunch that day – that I wasn't alone anymore." It all hit me like a giant weight, both welcome and painful. He had let me into his life so I could have the chance his friend had missed out on. How many other kids had he passed over before he saw his friend in me? And where would I be if he hadn't? For that matter, where would I be if his friend had never died? It was an overwhelming circle of thought that I couldn't find an end to.

"Yeah, that's why I took you home. I wasn't expecting that to happen. It just did." Pony turned to me. "When I was young, and we had guys stay over at our house sometimes so they didn't have to go home, my mom used to tell them they were family. She said some family you are born to, and other family you have to find and recognize as such. I guess when I met you, I knew – you were a part of my family."

Four months ago, I would have laughed at that, made a smart comment and told him how stupid it was, how he didn't understand anything about me and never would. Sitting in the car that day, I finally came to realize how much Pony did understand about me. And I knew then that he was right – somehow, I was a part of his family, as much as Darry and Soda and Steve and the guy with the switchblade collection who couldn't stop being funny to save his life. I had to let him know that I understood. I had to let him know that I wasn't fighting him any more, that I wanted my life to be worth one sixteen-year-old greaser who ran into a burning building to save some little kids.

"Pony?"

"Yeah, Vic?"

"I still think Darry should have beat you up for being stupid enough to walk home from the movies by yourself."

Pony looked down and grinned, and I knew he understood. I think he understands people as well as he thinks Soda does, he just doesn't realize it. "You're probably right." He turned and smiled at me, fully back in the present. "And he'd probably agree, so let's keep that between us. I don't know what the statute of limitations is on getting pounded by your big brother for doing something stupid."

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed! Now, some comments for my reviewers: 

Aslan: Thanks, glad you enjoyed. Yeah, with Tim and Curly I figured I'd go with Pony's prediction. It seemed like the most realistic thing for them, based on the repeat cycles I've seen throughout my life. No, you weren't supposed to feel sorry for Tracey. I'm sure people have different reactions, but adding her at that point was just showing what is going on with her; opinions will differ, I am sure, but in this chapter I went with what I thought would make sense with Darry. If I were writing Pony or Soda in that situation, I probably would have given a slightly different reaction. Hope it felt right!

Reviewer: Here it is!

ktk2005: Here's the update, hope you liked it! Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying my story. It's got a couple more twists before it's over.

Der Kat: Thanks, I'm glad you had the chance to read it! I like writing the characters older, partly because there is actually a little more leeway for slight personality differences, and partly because I'm writing into an era that I have vague memories of.

Hahukum Konn: Thanks, glad you're enjoying! It's good to hear you're finding it realistic. I actually printed out a 1976 calendar, and went on the net for things like popular TV shows, movies that were out that year, etc. Plus, I remember a little of it (used to watch The Donny and Marie show every Friday night!).

NeonProdigy: Yeah, I love Darry. I like keeping that tough quality to him, that analytical get-the-job-done attitude that Pony perceived as coldness in the book. He's awesome to write as an adult. There's so much I want to include in this story, it gets tough to fit everything in – like, the part with Darry wasn't supposed to be so long, but it just kept flowing. Yeah, I wanted to keep it realistic with Tim and Curly. A huge percentage of kids in their situation end up as adults in their situation. Hope you enjoyed the part with Tracy; something about why Darry was so "harsh" about it will come up in the next chapter.

Scarlett7: Thanks! Wow, Tim and Curly went over well with everyone. I'll have to maybe include them a bit more as the plot allows.

goldengreaser: Thanks, glad you enjoyed! No need to apologize, everyone has different thoughts and ideas about what would be realistic. For example, someone could just as easily write a good story about Pony as an adult meeting a woman he likes, who turns out to be a social worker, and maybe he has problems dealing with it. I like hearing what people think, and like to give explanations on my reasons where I can. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

darkdestiny2000: Yeah, that was her. I was thinking, people in the same situation could act in completely different ways, even with exactly the same priorities and intentions. Glad you liked the Vic/Lin interaction; they kind of meshed with me from the beginning, even with the completely different personalities (or maybe that's why). There's more about the two of them to come.

Tsuppi: Yeah, I can't seem to stop with this story. It just keeps going and going…I was thinking I'd be all the way to April or May by chapter 11, but it's still December! I really do enjoy writing this, and I'm glad so many others like reading it.

Taurus: Yeah, I put in the Shepherds. Can't have an Outsiders fic without them! I kind of see Tim as a little bit mellowed out, and maybe having a bit of cash behind him now, plus he's kind of one of those gang leaders that can stay off the street and rule from afar now. Hope you enjoyed!

virgil-t-stone: Here's the update, hope you enjoyed!

Fairlane: Thanks, I'm so glad you're enjoying this story! Yeah, I like tough Darry, it really makes sympathetic and understanding Darry shine through in those moments. I'm glad you're feeling the story; my main goal when I write each chapter is that I feel it, because if I don't, no one else will. But I think you know what I'm talking about, based on your Tim story; very emotional. Thanks again!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks! Don't feel stupid, Tracey was back in chapter 4 I think, so I wasn't expecting anyone who has been reading from the beginning to pick up on that immediately.

babygurl33: Here's the update; yeah, Tracey showed up for about half of chapter 4, so I didn't expect everyone to pick up on who she was. Hope you enjoyed!

Keira: Thanks, that really means a lot! I'm glad you liked it and thought everyone was in character. Here's an idea – maybe I can write you into the story for Vic! What do you want your name to be? Hehe! Yeah, Tracy was tempted by the money. Glad you like being eighteen. Hope you liked this chapter!

screaming666: Thanks! Your penname cracks me up, buy the way, I love it. I just get these images that have something to do with those bizarre paintings with the person-type-image in a silent scream. Who painted that? Anyway, thanks for the review, hope you enjoyed the update!

Just Playin: Tracy was working as a prostitute for Tim; that probably came through a little clearer in this chapter. Hope you liked!

Rock: Hey, anytime! Glad you liked the chapter, hope it was kind of a good memory that it brought up! Yeah, sounds a little mean – was this a group effort, or did they each come up with it on their own? I have a feeling there will be a lot of things that happen between little one #3 and my bigger guys that I will never know about. Yeah, I like the Darry toughness, too, and didn't see it going away as he got older. Maybe doesn't show up as often in his lifestyle, but it's there! Yeah, Tracy has messed up a bit. I'm trying to keep things real, so not everything always works out. Hope you liked!

Tensleep: Yeah, I always pictured Tim and Curly going exactly the route that Pony predicted, as so often happens in real life. Yeah, I like how the relationship between Vic and Lin is developing. I see them as almost naturally behaving as siblings, even though neither of them has never had one. They connected at that level, I guess, and they're both young enough to take it as another part of life. Thanks, and yeah, I'm feeling better! Off to go grocery shopping after I post this…(no Wal-Mart though!).


	12. Christmas Lights, Caviar,Steak,and Soda

**Author's Note: **So sorry this has been so long in coming! I was working on something else that I wanted to get through long before the baby comes, so now that that is in its next stage I can get back to my fics! Sorry again, the next update shouldn't be nearly this long!

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. I'm writing this story for fun, not making money or anything!

**Dedication**: This one goes out to all of you who have been waiting for the next chapter – sorry it's taken so long! Thanks for being so patient and so politely demanding! Liz

* * *

**Pony's POV**

I leaned the ladder up against the gutter and gave it a little shake to check for stability. "So, uh…feel like taking this end of the lights up the ladder while I keep unraveling the other side?"

"Not particularly," Darry answered.

"Really? I mean, you go up ladders all the time," I said, trying to convince my brother without admitting that I'm afraid of heights. I'd gotten this far in life without him knowing, no need to say anything now.

"I was thinking the same thing. Have a ball." Darry was patiently working on the ball of lights that Melissa had been toting from apartment to apartment for the past four years.

"But you're good at it," I suggested helplessly, staring up the ladder and getting dizzy already.

Darry looked up at me. "Pone, this is your house. Your lights. Your ladder. Your bushes to break your fall. I'm just here to watch."

Left with no options, I began my slow ascent up the rungs, wishing I had sprung for the expensive ladder as I felt it rattle beneath me. I bit my lower lip and kept going, keeping my eyes on the roofline. When I got to the top I adjusted the end of the light string against the wood and pressed the staple gun against the wire, attaching it firmly. Pulling the lights a little further along the roofline, I followed suit with a second staple. This wasn't so bad after all.

"Hey Pony," Darry called up.

"Yeah?"

"When you were growing up – if I had started selling drugs, what would you have thought of me? Would you have been disappointed?"

I almost fell off the ladder from the sheer surprise of his question. "Drugs? Wow, that's big. Hold on, I need to think about that one." I tried to take myself back ten or eleven years. What would I have thought if my big brother was selling drugs? "No. I don't think I would have been disappointed. I think at that age, I would have thought that if you were doing it, it was an okay thing to do."

"But it's illegal. What exactly have I taught you?" He sounded miffed.

"You taught by example," I answered, realizing I was nearing the end of my arms reach with the lights. "I see it all the time. Kids know what the cops say is wrong, they know the law, but if someone they love is doing it, the cops are the enemy."

I heard Darry sigh from below. "When was the last time you saw that girl, Tracey?" he asked.

I thought for a second before I realized who he was talking about. "Tracey? The one whose roof you fixed?"

"Yeah, her."

"Couple months ago. I don't go there regularly. She's the kids' legal guardian, so there's no call for monthly check-ins or anything like that. Why?"

"I saw her on Saturday. Pony, she's one of Tim's girls."

"Tim's girls? You mean she's a…"

"Yeah," he cut in.

"Are you sure?" I couldn't imagine Tracey doing something like that.

"Yeah I'm sure, I was there to collect her cut," Darry snapped.

"Alright, sorry. I just can't believe she would do that." I thought for a minute. "There's normally no reason to check into someone in her position without a complaint, just like any other parent. This isn't something my office would have even been aware of."

"So you think I shouldn't have said anything?" He sounded like he was ready to challenge me.

"No, don't get all defensive. Those kids can't live there with that going on, any more than they should if it was their own mother doing it. It's illegal. I'll check with my boss tomorrow; this will probably get taken care of by somebody other than me. They'll have to get verification that she's doing it."

"Good, because I gave her three days to stop. So if she did and they don't find anything, she's off the hook?"

"Basically, yeah. For the kids' sake let's hope she took you seriously."

"Are you ever coming down off that ladder?" Darry asked a couple minutes later. I was still standing there with the string of lights dangling from my hand to the ground below.

"Yeah, right now," I answered, and made the mistake of looking down. Oh, shit. I could feel my knees giving out, almost knocking together. My head swam, my heart raced, and I couldn't move.

"Pony?"

I stood there feeling stupid and humiliated. How could anyone be this scared at this height? We live in a ranch house, I was only as high as the lowest point in the attic.

"Pony?" Darry repeated. "What's wrong?"

"I…I can't move," I finally stammered.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, I just…I can't move." There was no other way to say it. I stiffened as I felt the latter sway and shift beneath me. In another few seconds Darry was standing behind me.

"You never told me you're afraid of heights," he commented.

"Yeah, well, it never came up."

"It could have, about ten minutes ago, before you walked up here." He almost sounded amused. I felt my face getting hot.

"Are you up here to laugh at me or help me down?" I asked irritably.

"Well if you're gonna get nasty about it you can just stand here for the rest of the holiday," he answered, starting to back down the ladder.

"Dar!" Just having him stand behind me had gotten me breathing a little easier. He stepped back up. "Sorry. Just get me down from here, please."

"Step down once," he instructed, arms on either side of me holding the ladder. I took a shaky step down. "Now the other foot." Five minutes later we had reached solid ground. I couldn't even look at Darry, I felt so stupid. I knew my face was still red; I was probably glowing brighter than the lights, the way it felt.

Darry patted me on the back. "Hey Pone."

"What?"

"Look at me." I did, knowing if I didn't do it on my own he'd get hold of me and make sure I looked at him. "Someone who can run into a burning building without a second thought to save some kids is allowed to be afraid of heights." He grinned at me and took the lights out of my hand, where they had been clutched so tightly they were damp from my sweaty hand.

"Thanks. And thanks for getting me down."

"Yeah, well, Melissa wouldn't have been too happy about having you as a Christmas decoration anyway. And I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to be the one to leave you up there and have to deal with the wrath of a pregnant female. So thank your wife."

I stood on my front lawn for the next forty minutes unraveling the lights as Darry stapled them to the roofline.

**Soda's POV**

"Soda?"

"Hmmm?"

"Could you let go of me now? I need to get dressed." Melanie was trying to wiggle out of my grasp, so I held on a little tighter. She laughed. "I really do need to put my clothes on now."

"Yeah, yeah. Clothes. Way overrated." I watched her crawl out of the bed and cross the room to the bathroom, resisting the urge to follow and annoy her further while she was in the shower. I felt like I had won the lottery. I couldn't remember ever meeting anyone like Melanie. Sandy felt as far away and distant as winter does when you're sitting on the porch being warmed by the late-summer sun. I took a deep breath and tried to think about something other than Melanie. Cars. Chocolate Cake. Should buy some stuff to make chocolate cake. Need to pick up some other things from the grocery store, too. Soap, need to get more soap. For the shower. Ah, what the hell. I jumped out of bed and ducked into the bathroom. "Need any help?" I called out.

"I think I can wash my hair on my own," came the reply, followed by a pause. "But if you feel like helping…"

Not one to wait for a second invitation, I pulled the shower curtain out of my way and stepped inside.

>>>>

I pulled into the circular drive in front of Melanie's folks' place and tried not to stare at the house. It was huge. Two people live in there? "Where are all the cars?" I asked.

"Give your keys to Mr. Fairmont. He'll put you car around back with the others," Melanie answered.

We stepped out of the car and I handed the guy the keys. "Now make sure it doesn't come back all dented," I told him. He took a good look at the scratches, dings, and dents covering the car and gave me a strange look before climbing inside and attempting to start the engine.

"Hold on," I said, "pop the hood." He did, so I adjusted the idle. "Give her another go!" He did, and the car started. Mr. Fairsomething drove around the back looking kind of annoyed. Maybe he was afraid he'd get dirt on his nice tux.

We stepped up to the door, and Mel rang the doorbell.

"Isn't this your parents' house?" I asked.

"Oh, sure, but they have a butler. He'll let us in."

"Okay, whatever you say." We stood there waiting for a minute until the door was answered.

"Welcome, Miss Roth, and Merry Christmas."

Melanie stepped forward and gave the butler a hug. "Merry Christmas, Marcus!"

Marcus led us into the foyer and took our coats before directing us toward the back of the house, where I could hear voices and soft music. I wondered briefly if Marcus was going to toss our coats onto a big pile on a bed upstairs. It made me smile.

"What are you thinking about?" Mel asked, grinning at my amused look.

"Just thinking about how parties usually work where I'm from."

"Well, don't worry, everything will be fine." I don't think I was half as worried as she was, or maybe as she should have been.

We entered a room full of people, where a huge Christmas tree stood at the far end next to the fireplace, which was burning merrily. "Melanie dear!" someone called out, and a woman who bared a slight resemblance to Mel walked over with a drink in her hand. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Mom." Melanie hugged her mom before introducing us. "Mom, this is Sodapop." Melanie's mom gave me an odd look, but held out her hand and gave me a genuine smile.

"So glad you could come…er…Sodapop." Her saying my name was like hearing a nun swear or something. It just didn't fit.

I shook her hand and grinned back. "Thanks for the invite. And you can just call me Soda, ma'am."

"Well, I'm just so glad to finally be meeting you. Melanie has talked so much about you. Please, mingle. I'm sure Melanie will be introducing you to some of our family and friends."

"Thank you." I wasn't sure what I was thanking her for, but she seemed nice enough. Melanie took my arm, and we began strolling over toward the bar. I was still trying to get over how two people were living in the monstrosity surrounding me. Hell, if we had lived in a house that big we never would have seen each other.

On the way over to the bar a woman stopped us. She looked to be about in her sixties, and came off as very sophisticated. "Melanie, you look wonderful," she said, pulling Melanie into a quick hug. "I understand you will be coordinating the food for the winter festival this year."

"Yes, that's right," Mel confirmed. "Aunt Bethany, this is my boyfriend."

I stepped forward and took Aunt Bethany's hand and shook it. This was a little more formal than I was used to; at any rate, I smiled and introduced myself. "Sodapop."

She looked at me for a second. "Well, yes…I believe they have that over at the bar. You'll have to ask the bartender what kinds, I know you kids these days…"

"No, no, Aunt Bethany," Melanie interrupted, "that's his name. This is Soda."

She looked surprised for a second, then started laughing. "Oh, wonderful! How original! Good gracious, very happy to meet you." She leaned close to me and lowered her voice. "I'll tell you, if I had to meet another George or Biff or Lance, I would just scream."

"Ah, Bethany, there you are!" A large round balding gentleman came over and gave Aunt Bethany a hug.

"Hello, George," she greeted, glancing at me for an instant. I stifled a laugh. "And look who else is here – Melanie, with her new boyfriend Fountaindrink."

"Sodapop," I corrected politely, extending my hand to George. All in all, Melanie's family seemed real nice. I had met her twin brother, Michael, before, so it was good to see a familiar face when he arrived. He's about as laid back as she is, with a quick smile and good sense of humor. We mingled for a while, talking and helping ourselves to the constant stream of appetizers provided by men in tuxedos carrying silver trays. Half of the appetizers were covered with salty black fish eggs, which I found more than a little repulsive, and there weren't any of those little hotdog ones, but the shrimp things were decent. Just when I was starting to wonder if that was what they counted as dinner a woman with a tight bun in her hair opened a set of large doors and announced that it was time to eat.

We all filed into the dining room, where a long table was set with china and silver, and there were actually place cards on each plate. I'd have to tell Pony about this. Mel and I found our seats, right across from one of the few people who had rubbed me the wrong way – Mel's cousin, Jason. He was tall and slim, and wore a crisp expensive suit. That didn't bother me. What had gotten to me was the way he huffed when he looked at me, and his comments about being one of the lucky ones who had gotten around the draft somehow during the Vietnam War.

The servants, or whatever you call them, started bringing out plates of salad and bowls of soup. "Mr. Curtis," Melanie's father boomed from the head of the table, "Melanie has told me that you used to work for DX, and have recently started your own business."

I nodded. "That's right, sir." Wasn't too much else to say about it. I wondered why Melanie was getting tense beside me.

"You might be familiar with an acquaintance of mine – Frank Mills. Ever heard of him? He was one of the higher-ups with Sunoco when they merged with DX back in '68."

"No, doesn't ring a bell," I answered honestly.

"Hmph." He scratched his head, and Melanie made a little noise in her throat next to me. "His son, maybe. Frank Junior was his name. Worked in marketing with Sunoco. About your age, in fact."

"Nope, didn't know him either." Why he thought I would have heard of Frank Mills when I had never heard of his father, Frank Mills, I have no idea.

"Well," suggested Melanie's Uncle Jerry, her father's brother, "perhaps it would be more effective to just ask the boy what department he worked for. Well then?"

I grinned, getting the picture and understanding Melanie's near-stroke condition while listening to the conversation evolve. "Sir, I worked in the gas-pumping and car-fixing department," I answered, finding this whole thing amusing. They thought I had actually worked for the company, inside of one of those glass-walled air-conditioned suit-laden buildings downtown?

Both men stared at me for a minute before Mel's father started laughing. He gave the table a slap with his hand, making everyone jump. "The boy works for a living! Hallelujah! Don't get that much anymore these days."

Uncle Jerry nodded agreement. "That's right, I'll tell ya'. Our father came to this country as a boy with five cents in his pocket, and he worked his way up. And by God, that's the way he taught us! Wasn't any of this malarkey of sons taking the easy way out, making their way on their father's name." He barely glanced over at his son, Cousin Jason, who was glaring arrows at me. I stared back until he looked aside.

Dinner came out next. They put a little steak in front of me that was about two inches thick. I figured it would take a lot of jaw power to get through that sucker, but was surprised when I noticed Melanie was just cutting right through it with her fork. The thing was like butter, and a far cry from the chewy slabs of meat we cook up on the grill sometimes in the summer. Something else to tell Pony, though he'd probably know exactly what I was talking about.

After a dessert of poached pears with ice milk and raspberry sauce (one dinner and I'm already throwing around words like "poached") we all went back to the fireplace room and talked until everyone seemed to decide the party was over and it was time to go.

"So that wasn't so bad," I said as we pulled away.

"No, it wasn't," Melanie agreed.

"Mel – how come you didn't tell your dad what I do for a living?" I wasn't mad, but it bugged me a little.

"I'm sorry, Soda. It's just…I didn't even think about it. It wasn't until Dad started questioning you that I realized that he'd misunderstood me." She reached over and put her hand on my leg. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. Are you mad?"

I laughed. "Are you kidding? Your family was great. I had a terrific time. And I'm proud of what I do. So no, I'm not mad. But if you're feeling guilty, I can think of a few things you can do that would make it all up to me."

Melanie laughed. "You wish, stud."

I glanced over at her in her nice dress and shoes, sitting on my taped up car seat like she belonged there. I wondered what it must be like to come to a new country with five cents to your name, and see your children living in fancy houses eating fish eggs and steak that cuts like butter. They were real people, though. It took me back to something that Pony had said to me back when we were kids, after Dally and Johnny died. It ain't the money that separates a greaser from a soc. It's the attitude. Some of them had it, and some of them didn't. From what I had seen, Mel's family didn't. Other than Jason, I mean.

>>>>

BRRRRING!

I rolled over and swiped at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

BRRRRING!

"Dammit!" I hit the button again.

BRRRRING!

That time I just grabbed the thing and threw it across the room, hearing it thud to the wood floor and slide across to the opposite wall.

BRRRRING!

I looked up in a sleepy haze, confused that the clock was still ringing from its unplugged spot on the floor across the room.

BRRRRING!

Phone. It was the phone. I shoved around on the nightstand, knocked the receiver off the hook, picked it up, and put it to my ear. Wrong way. I turned it around while reaching for the light. "Hello?"

"Hey Soda. It's me."

"Pony?" A rush of adrenaline shot through me, and I was instantly wide awake. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing, sorry. Everything's okay. Were you sleeping?" He sounded shaky.

"Sleeping? Naw. I mean, it's…well, I don't really know what time it is, the clock's on the floor at the other side of the room. What's goin' on?"

"I'm sorry Soda, I shouldn't have called. It's two-thirty. It's just…I had a dream."

As soon as he said it I knew exactly what he was talking about and why he had called. "Was it bad?"

"It was the worst one yet," he replied, voice quavering slightly. "Every year, Soda. Only it hasn't even been a year yet this time. It's still a couple months away."

I sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Pony, you've got to tell someone. You need help for this, and I don't know how to give it."

There were a few seconds of silence. Just when I was beginning to think we had been cut off he spoke again. "I know, Soda. I just can't. I can't tell Melissa. Or Darry. I don't know how. What would they think of me?"

I sighed. "Pony, you did what you had to do. You did what you were told. You did what kept the other boys alive. And you need someone to help you with this, especially if it's getting worse."

"I know, I know." I heard him take a deep breath. "It's hard, that's all. You were there. How come this doesn't happen to you?"

"I don't know, Pone. Maybe it's because you appreciate life more than a lot of people, no matter whose it is. Look, I'm getting dressed. I'll be over in ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if I get stuck in working traffic."

Ponyboy gave a little laugh. "You don't need to."

"I know. I'll see you soon." I hung up the phone and reached to the end of the bed for my jeans. There's a lot of things you don't need to do for your family. But hell, if you go by that theory all the time, you're not a family anymore. I pulled on my shirt and shoes and went out into the quiet dark night to go across town and sit with my little brother.

* * *

Now for my reviewers (sorry for the quick responses, I wanted to get this posted tonight!):

notdapunkprincess: Thanks! Things are going well here, at about the halfway point. Hopefully I can update this a little more regularly now!

BlackLightningDX: Thanks so much, I am so glad you're enjoying the story! What a nice review that was to get!

kaz456: Thank you! Glad you enjoyed. No Vic in this chapter, but he'll be back soon.

caillion: Thanks, glad you liked it. I thought it was time for Vic to start seeing the bigger picture.

kiki-kirara: Wow, you really hate Tracey! Glad you liked the chapter, though, and that the characters are coming across as real. I kind of see Pony as more like a big brother to Vic, too, and that's more or less how their relationship develops.

Tsuppi: Glad you enjoyed! Darry had told Tracey that he was giving her three days to stop what she was doing, implying that he would report her, so to speak, after that.

Chronic Sarcasm: Yeah, ten bucks is way too low. If that's her cut, it makes you wonder how much Tim is getting from all this. Randy in the army – that would be a good one to write about! I don't get the gown thing either. And they put two little ties on the things.

Erika VonTrapp: Thank you so much. Vic is one of my favorite characters (of mine) for me to write.

kimmerkay: Thank you! No more morning sickness, and everything is going smoothly so far. Glad you liked chapter, hope this one was good for you too!

mrs sodapop curtis: Thanks! No, it wasn't the end, just took me a long time to update. Hope you enjoyed!

FoxFyre33: Thanks so much! Yeah, Vic has a lot to think about, and he's not a stupid kid by any means. I'll probably have Randy show up again, and possibly a couple of others if I can fit them before the end. Hope you enjoyed this one!

Rock: Thank you! Tracey is a little messed up, trying to be a mom and a young woman; she needed a little reality check, and Darry was definitely the one to give it. Yeah, I'm happy to be at a point where Vic and Pony's relationship is good, and Vic will open up more. It's not easy trying to show somebody's personality and cover it at the same time!

screaming666: Thanks, glad you enjoyed! So sorry this was such a long update lag, there have been a few other commitments I needed to take care of this past month. Here it is, though, hope you enjoyed!

Fairlane: Thank you so much for the detailed review, it's great knowing what was good and what didn't work. Darry seems like he shouldn't be too hard to write, but with so much left to the imagination by S.E. Hinton and trying to sort out what he's really like from how Ponyboy perceived him throughout the book makes it not so easy; so anyway, I'm glad he's coming across well! Thanks again for the review, and I'm looking forward to your next chapter!

virgil-t-stone: Thanks, I love writing this story! Next update shouldn't take so long.

Scarlett7: Thanks so much for the compliment, I love writing this. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Keira: Let's see…I think we covered both of your review comments already! I'll be working in that second one in a couple more chapters. Don't worry, I didn't forget! Thanks for the review!

Tensleep: Thanks for the great review! I figured you would want to see Darry getting tough. And I could see Randy and Ponyboy being even more on the same level once they are away from the pressures of teenage life. It's really cool to hear that you can relate to some of the stuff I've got in here, it makes it feel that much more real for me. Thanks!

MissA92: Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed!

Hahukum Konn: Thanks! Yeah, I think Vic will go places, especially now that he's got a stable life.

Just Playin: Yeah, in the movie they changed Randy's last name to Anderson, but in the book it's Adderson. I think they also changed Two-Bit's last name slightly. Thanks for the review!

babygurl33: Thanks! Hope you liked this one. Vic will be back soon!

ktk2005: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed!

Tessie26: Thanks so much for the review! I'm glad Darry came off as realistic; yeah, he's not so easy to write. I liked putting Randy in, and it took a lot of editing to get that last scene with Vic right, but I liked how it came out too, so thanks! More about Vietnam is coming up. Hope you enjoyed!

kaz456: Yeah, I think like that, too. In fact, that circle of thought is the underlying theme in something else I just finished writing. Glad you liked the chapter, thanks for the review!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks so much! Sorry for the long update lag, I'm getting back on track with this now!

darkdestiney2000: Thank you! Randy's name was Anderson in the movie, Adderson in the book. Like our lives aren't confusing enough, right? Thanks for the review!


	13. Unwanted Memories

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders; I'm writing this for fun, not profit.

**Dedication**: To Tessie26, who has been waiting patiently for more details about the boys' experience in Vietnam, and to Tensleep, who might need something to read as she recovers from her mosquito bites before next week. Hope you enjoy!

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**Pony's POV**

_I headed through the lot, toward the trees at the back. There was nothing beyond those trees, just some brush before you hit the backyards of the folks who lived on the street that ran parallel to the lot. But somehow, I kept walking._

_The trees were getting closer together, and I had to press through the ever-thickening underbrush as if I were wading through molasses. Snagging, vine-filled, damp, green molasses that became more viscous with each step I took. Sweat rolled down my face, and I glanced up through the overhanging branches for the sun where it crept lazily through the heavily visible air. My clothes were soaked with sweat now, or maybe it was moisture captured from the empty space around my body, clinging to me as angrily as the vines and thorns I waded through._

_I continued to press my way to my unknown destination and was taken aback when the dense jungle gave way to a clearing. It looked exactly like the lot, the one that I had left behind, but I was miles away from that by now. A man was sitting by a small bonfire, shoving the firewood around with a long stick from the rock on which he sat. He was tiny, dark skinned, with black hair and slanted eyes, and blood flowed freely from the open wound in the middle of his chest. He looked up at me and smiled. "Hi there. Come out of the jungle so I can finally see you."_

_His voice was at once startling and familiar. It wasn't the high-pitched chatter I expected, and didn't even hint at an accent. He patted the rock that sat waiting on the ground next to him, reaching down every so often to wipe halfheartedly at his blood as it dripped to the reddening ground below. I stepped into the clearing and moved toward the man._

"_How have you been?" he asked me._

"_Not bad. The kids, you know, it's hard. I want to help them all."_

_He nodded. I took a step back when I realized that the clearing, which had only seconds before been empty save this one man, was filled with over a dozen other men. Some had blood gushing from their necks, others were missing part of their face or head, still others bore wounds similar to the man stoking the fire, and one had a seeping red hole where his left eye had once been. I knew them all, but I didn't. I tried to think where I knew them from._

"_Sit down," the man said again in that same voice, as comforting and familiar as it was upsetting. _

_I walked toward him and sat down, thinking nothing of the bleeding mass surrounding us. They were all talking in hushed whispers, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. "How have you been?" I asked._

"_Oh, very well. We enjoy watching you. Even though we can't be with you, we love watching how you have turned out." He smiled at me before turning back to the fire. "It's almost dinner time."_

_I watched the stick he was holding as it caught fire at the end, only to be extinguished in the soft damp dirt next to the man. He repeated this action a few times as the end of the stick became more charred and unrecognizable._

"_How's Mom?" I asked the man._

_He sighed and looked down at the ground in front of him. "She wants to be with all of you, but she is happy. She'll wait." He looked to me again. "I think it's time for dinner now."_

_I looked across the fire to where Darry now sat, plucking the feathers off of a large duck. He gazed across to me. "These ones are good eating. Lots of meat."_

_I nodded. "What about the other men?"_

"_What about them?" The duck that Darry was holding was abruptly ready for cooking, as if we had been sitting there for much longer than a few seconds._

_I glanced around the field at the men, thinking they would all be hungry, but in their place was a small flock of bleeding ducks. "What about those men?" I asked again._

_Darry looked over at the ducks, then glared at me through stormy eyes. "Those ones aren't good for eating, Pony. You only shoot the ones you can eat." He tossed the duck into the fire._

_I turned to the man who was somehow my father; he was now a duck, but the transformation didn't seem strange to me at all. His chest was still bleeding freely, and he smiled at me again. I vaguely wondered how I had never before noticed that ducks could smile. "Are you eating with us?" I asked._

"_Oh, but I'm already gone," he replied. "Don't you remember? That car came at us from out of nowhere, like a bullet. We didn't even see it coming out of the woods."_

"_But…but you were on the highway," I reminded him. "There weren't any woods…"_

"_Doesn't matter," Darry snapped from across the fire. "They weren't ready yet. How could you let that happen?"_

_A sick cold wave of shame washed over me under Darry's glare. How could he ever forgive me? I looked back to the duck sitting next to me, who was a man again, a small dark-skinned dark-eyed man with slanted eyes and a now-present accent. He looked at me through expressionless eyes as the skin on his body began to wrinkle, peel, and crumple away, and he spoke his last words just as his body became a skeleton, slumped forward and charred black by the fire he had built. "I had children, too."_

"Hahh!" I sat bolt upright; my heart pounded furiously as sweat rolled down my face, back, and chest. I was shaking, and my breath came in ragged gasps as I scanned my surroundings for ducks and skeletons. Within a few seconds I was fully awake, in my own bedroom, with Melissa breathing peacefully beside me. Unable to stop the images that were speeding through my mind, I climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, and went out to the living room.

The house was quiet and felt almost sinister in the darkness of night, though nothing bad had ever happened here. Angry with myself for succumbing to childish fears of nightmares and ghosts, I switched on a light and plopped down on the couch. I sat for a few minutes trying to steady my nerves, wishing for a cigarette as the mantle clock ticked steadily, and almost jumping to my feet when a floorboard across the room creaked.

"You up late, or early?" Vic asked, peering across the room at me through groggy eyes.

I took a breath and sat back again. "Just woke up. I…I couldn't get back to sleep," I hedged.

Vic gave me a suspicious look before crossing the room to sit next to me. "You're not sick, are you? Because I'm not sitting here if you're sick. I have a social life, you know, can't afford to bail on my engagements."

I felt a slight smile cross my lips. That kid was something else, and I found myself grateful for his subtle sense of humor. "No, Vic. I'm not sick." I looked over at him. "How come you're up?"

"I couldn't sleep, either."

It was all he offered, though by the look on his face when he had appeared, which I was only just thinking back to, there was more to it for him, as well. The mantle clock chimed four times. "Hungry?" I asked him.

Vic nodded. "Yeah, I could go for some grub. You cooking?"

"Only if I get some help," I replied.

"Sure," he answered. "I'll go wake up Liss." He ducked as I reached over and swung lightly at the back of his head. "Alright, I guess I can crack a few eggs. Just don't expect any miracles."

Something about what he had said made me think about him, and Linleigh, and Melissa, and the baby that was growing inside of her. "I don't need to expect miracles. I see them every day."

>>>>

"Pony, could you please take the trash out to the can? I need to keep stirring this stuff."

"Sure." I pulled the bag out of the kitchen garbage bin and tied it up. The bitter February wind cut right through my sweatshirt as I crossed the yard to the back alley and deposited the bag in the trash can. It was an overcast Sunday, bare and quiet and gloomy outside. The mood contrasted harshly with the smiles and laughter coming from inside the house. Darry was in the basement with Vic, spotting for his nephew at the weight bench; Sodapop, Melanie, and Lin were in the living room playing _Clue_; and Melissa and my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Jenn, were in the kitchen cooking dinner and paging through bridal magazines. Everyone was happy, the world was great, and in the mood I was in, I felt completely in the right place – barren, still, cold, alone.

I leaned against the back fence and took a deep breath. I had to tell them. The dream I had had that morning was the worst one yet, and in the past couple of months they had been coming with vicious rapidity. Almost every night I was awakened by my own fears, my own inability to cope with my past. Soda had told me before, and I hadn't wanted to believe him, but now I knew – I needed help. I needed help as much as Lin and Vic did. Constantly I was reassuring them that their weekly sessions were nothing to be ashamed of, everyone needs help to deal with the bad things in their lives, and sometimes that help comes from someone who understands the mind and how to beat it at its own game.

Soda's laughter cut through the silence, warming me from the inside and making me smile in spite of my mood. He was different than he used to be, but the same. I couldn't put my finger on it. He was still my brother, I still loved him so much it hurt, but he wasn't the same brother I had grown up with. In a lot of ways, the difference made us closer. Maybe it was because he was able to see the world a little more the way I did. Thoughts of him took me back to one of my earliest experiences in Vietnam, and one of my strongest memories of that dark time.

I had been in-country for almost two months. During boot camp someone had picked up on my "God-given" abilities, and word got around, following me right across the ocean like a persistent plague. My sergeant pulled me aside on the first day to let me know what he expected of me.

We hadn't seen much action for the first several weeks. Then, one morning, just as the sun was rising, I had made my first kill, and my second, and third, all in the span of about two minutes, and the group we had stumbled across was left scattered and confused. I had saved my buddies, but the faces of the men I had killed stared at me in my sleep every night for the next week. I was given a few days R&R, and went directly to an alcohol-serving hole in the wall overflowing with soldiers and soldier-seeking native women.

I'd only been sitting down for a few minutes, and hadn't even touched my drink, when a voice boomed from over my shoulder, "PRIVATE CURTIS! What the hell do you think you're doing, sitting here looking like a damn drunken slob! Stand at attention! You're listed as AWOL, you damn little FNG! Turn the hell around and look at me when I'm talking to you, Curtis!"

I had spilled my drink somewhere around 'what the hell', stood up so fast my chair went over backward, and tried to straighten my shirt and look presentable in an outright panic. My brain had shut off as my military training took over, desperately grasping for some sense of discipline and professionalism. I turned around at the end of the tirade to look into the smiling eyes of the brother I hadn't seen in over two years.

Tossing all pretense and protocol out the window, I half leapt, half slid across the table between us and was in Soda's arms an instant later. Both of us were crying and laughing, and looking back, it must have been a pretty surprising ending to the scene the soldiers around us had just witnessed. "He's my brother," Soda had explained to anyone who was watching us, and most of them smiled understandingly and nodded appreciatively. I never did get myself another drink. Having my brother there with me was enough to pull me back to life and get me back on track.

The next three days were filled with women, dancing, fighting (not with each other, that's another story), and talking. Before we had to part ways, we'd sat down and written a letter to Darry, together, and both signed it. He would be glad to see that we were together, even if it was only for a few days. I knew he would be jealous of me – we had both been missing Soda horribly – but he would be happy all the same that at least one of us had had the chance to see him.

Soda did get a month-long leave not long afterward, and was able to travel home to be with Darry. But it ended up being a total of four years before the three of us were in the same room again, all together. It was a hospital room where Soda had been sent to recover from his injury.

"Pony, are you still out there?" I looked up to the back door, where my wife was calling to me with concern. "Aren't you cold?" she asked.

I smiled; it was work, but I smiled. "I'm okay. Just thinking." I pressed the metal lid back onto the trash can and went back to the house, almost shaking with the guilt and shame I was already feeling as I looked ahead to the end of the evening. I had to tell them. Tonight.

>>>>

"A sniper?" Darry repeated from his spot on the arm of the easy chair.

I took a deep breath. It sounded loud in the silent room. Soda's hand squeezed my shoulder as I swallowed. "Yeah. I mean, the Army didn't actually have trained snipers, like the Marines. They picked out the soldiers who were the best shots, and we went ahead with another guy to scout things out. Sometimes I had assignments. But that's what I was. A sniper. Hiding in the jungle, picking off guys like…" I stopped and put my face in my hands as I felt the first sob shake through me. "I…I couldn't even shoot a duck when I was a kid, but I…" I had to stop again.

Soda's arm draped across me. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Melissa was suddenly on my other side, kissing my face and rubbing my hair.

"Pony."

I looked down at Darry, who had come to kneel in front of me. "You don't have anything to be sorry about. You're here. It was a war. You did what you had to."

Hearing him say that, and seeing in his face that he meant it, lifted more of a weight off of me than I could ever have expected. I thought back to what had kept me going all those months, whenever the guilt threatened to take over and keep me from doing my job. Every time I had to take someone out, I kept one thought in mind – the next bullet out of his gun could be the one that kills my brother. Every round that comes out of my rifle and hits its mark is saving Soda's life.

I scanned my family's faces. They were surprised, sympathetic, understanding – but not angry or disappointed. "I…I think I need some help with this," I stammered. "I've been having dreams. I think I need help."

"Pony, whatever you need. We love you, you know that. A lot of guys back from the war needed counseling." Melissa smiled at me, a genuine smile through tears. "I'm very proud of you, Pony. You fought for your country and you probably helped some other boys come home alive. You shouldn't be ashamed of that."

I nodded and wiped my eyes. "Thanks. All of you. Thanks."

An hour or so later Darry pulled me aside. "Hey, Pon, I have something at home I think you should have. It's Dad's journal, from when he was in the war. I think there's some stuff in it you should read."

"Yeah? I didn't even know he kept a journal."

"Me neither, until I found it in a box in the attic a few years back. I read through it, and…I really think you need to see it."

"Okay. Thanks." I shifted awkwardly. Emotional moments between me and Darry are few and far between, and they still usually make me feel like a little kid again.

Darry took my arm as I started to turn and walk away. "Wait a minute." I turned to look at him and was surprised to see the emotion in his face. He didn't even try to hide it. "I'm real proud of you, Pony. You took good care of Soda while you were there. I'm real proud of you." After a brief hesitation he pulled me close for a hug. We held on for a few minutes; I guess when you don't hug someone very often it's okay to make up for lost chances. He held me back by the shoulders and smiled at me before we both headed back to the living room, and I realized once again that my fears about what my oldest brother thought of me came more from my own feelings of inadequacy than anything he had ever done to put them there. He didn't just love me, he wasn't just proud of me. He understood me. Maybe that was all I had ever needed to know from him.

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed! 

FYI, in case you don't know much about the military or aren't married to someone who does (hehe), "FNG" (the thing Soda says in his tirade) stands for "Fing New Guy".

FYI #2: I did some research and found pretty much what Pony said: during the Vietnam War the Army did not yet have a sniper school. In its simplest form, they took their best marksmen and utilized them as a form of snipers, sending them ahead with another guy to make sure the path ahead was clear for the rest of the unit.

Now, to my review responses:

goldengreaser: So cool that you were reading stuff again! I'm glad you've enjoyed it enough to do that.

Erika VonTrapp: Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying!

babygurl33: Thanks! Hope this wasn't too long for you!

MissA92: Thank you!

Lee: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. Darry's a tough character to write, so it's good to hear he came across well. Thank you for the kind compliments; I enjoy exploring the different paths this family might have taken, and am constantly trying to keep them true to the book, so again, it's good to hear when it is working. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Rosie: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well; I didn't see any need to drag things out, there are other things to cover before I get to the end as well.

Keira: Thanks! I liked writing that scene with Darry and Pony. Vic and Lin will come in more in the next chapter. I wanted to write this one kind of to-the-point, not drag it out and all, since there's still more stuff to come before the story is over. Hope you liked this one!

Sodapop's#1gurl: Thanks, hope you enjoyed this one!

nycsarabicfaith: Thank you! And here's another chapter, hope you enjoyed!

BlackLightningDX: Thanks, glad you liked! I'm finding Soda more fun to write the farther I go with this story.

Scarlett7: Thank you so much, those were some really nice compliments. I love writing this story and try hard to keep everyone in character. I plan to continue to the end of the story; hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Mrs. Soda Curtis: Thank you, hope this wasn't too long for an update!

horrorpop: Thanks for reviewing, glad you enjoyed!

Tessie26: Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I've had parts of it written for months now!

darkdestiny2000: Thanks, here's more!

Locket the Lookout: Thanks, glad you enjoyed!

LOL: No, he's still around, roaming the halls in the wee hours of the morning…

Hahukum Konn: Thanks, it's always good to hear that the Darry I wrote sounds true to form. I had fun writing the part about Melanie's quirky family. Hope you liked this chapter, Vietnam and everything!

virgil-t-stone: Thank you, here's the next chapter, hope you liked!

Fairlane: Thanks so much for the review! Again, it's always good to hear that I'm writing Darry the way others also perceive him. The Christmas party scene was fun to write. I have to be in a fun mood to write Soda, so I enjoyed that one. Hope you liked this one, and that it cleared some things up!

Tensleep: Glad you liked the chapter. Uncle Trev would have been a riot with these people, eh? Yes, Soda and Pony were in the war at the same time; Soda enlisted, and Pony was drafted two years later, while Soda was still there. Hope you liked this chapter, I wanted to get it up for you to have something to read over the weekend.

ktk2005: Thank you, hope you liked the update!

kimmerkay: Thank you so much! I always liked thinking ahead to what Darry and Pony would have been like together as adults. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, it should explain some things from the end of the last one. Yes, things are going well so far. This is my third. My two boys are 3.5 and 5.5 years old, and as far as two ultrasound technicians and one doctor are concerned, this one is going to be a little sister. Thanks for asking!

kaz456: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! A little bit of Vic in this one, but more to come in the next chapter.

Amber: Thanks so much, I'm glad you've been enjoying the story. I love writing it. Congratulations on your son, I hope everything is going well. Are you getting any sleep? I was tired for the first four months with my first one, and learned a lot by the time I had my second. Good luck!

screaming666: Thank you, you write very amusing reviews. Black roses! Yay! Thanks again, hope you liked this chapter.

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it so much! Hope you enjoyed this one as well.


	14. To Each, Her Own

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders; this story was written for pleasure, not profit.

**A/N: **First: The alternating points of view in this chapter are quite intentional and hopefully serve their purpose without making things confusing.

Second: This is kind of like the home stretch, with two or three chapters after this one. In an effort to get this posted as soon as possible, I'm skipping the review thanks this time, and hope everyone understands. Within the next three or four weeks, give or take, I'll be insanely busy and recovering from growing a person inside of me and then pushing it out. With that in mind, I am working to get to the computer and finish these last few chapters as quickly as I can without compromising quality (they're all in my head, just need to be put into words on the computer!). With that said, thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter; feel free to hold off on reviewing until the end if you like, or just enjoy the rest of the story, no reviews expected if you don't find any problems or have questions! If I can finish the next chapter within a week I will put my thanks and personal comments from chapter 13 at the end of that one. Hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you have any comments or suggestions. Thank you!

* * *

**Pony's POV**

I unrolled the top of the brown paper bag and reached inside until my fingers pressed into something with a sandwichy feel. Pulling it out, I wondered what Melissa had done to this one to make it special. On the surface it looked like an ordinary ham and cheese sandwich on Wonder bread. I unwrapped it, pulled the top off, and smiled; she had used the mustard to make a happy face before slapping on the top slice of bread.

Now that she's five months along, Melissa is no longer sick, has a lot of energy again, and has developed the little bulge in her belly that she'd been looking forward to seeing. She is also getting more maternal on all of us, fussing over the kids when it's real cold out and doing little things to let us know she's back and she loves us.

Like the mustard thing.

I don't really care, I think it's kind of cute, but Vic was pretty ticked off the other day when he pulled his lunch out as school and discovered that Liss had used a cookie cutter to turn his sandwich into a peanut-butter-and-jelly heart. That doesn't look so tough when you're fourteen and trying to come off as a cool cat. He was tactful with her, though, and to be honest I think he kind of liked that she would do something like that, even though his buddies laughed at him. Melissa has since agreed to be more subtle in her displays of affection.

The icy March wind working its way through my window brought me to stuff my scarf against the sill. I gazed down at the street below, to the people wandering about their lives, bundled up and huddling against the season. It wasn't like summertime, when you can tell at a glance who is happy and who isn't. You can't even see their faces in the middle of winter. I wondered if any of them were as happy as I was.

Our adoption of Linleigh had progressed almost to completion; Melissa's pregnancy was going well, and by the end of July we would have our baby; my visits to the therapist had actually been helping, so my dreams were becoming more scattered and less daunting; and soon enough we would be adopting Vic. All we were waiting for was that one phone call to let us know everything was clear to move forward, that his mother couldn't be found, that he was ours for good. One phone call, and everything would be perfect in our lives.

I guess perfection can be too much to ask for.

**Vic's POV**

I was lying on my bed reading my history assignment when Linleigh came in and sat down. I don't care if she comes in my room, but it really bugs me when someone watches me read. "What?"

"Huh?" she answered.

"Do you want something? I'm reading."

Lin sighed. I hoped she wasn't planning on rattling on about her teeny-bopper friends, or I'd have to just lock her out. She didn't say anything, so I glanced up at her. She looked like something was bugging her. I hate trying to drag information out of people.

"Linleigh, if there's something wrong, just tell me. I'm doing homework here." I didn't mean for it to come out as snappy as it had.

She looked at the floor. "I hate school. Kids make fun of me."

Now, there was something different – cruel kids who make fun of someone who isn't like them. "Ignore them, Lin. They don't know you. They don't know what they're talking about, and you don't need them if they can't see you for who you are." It was cliché, but I didn't know what else to tell her. Life sucks sometimes, and you either let it get you down or you give it the finger and move on.

Lin nodded. "Okay. Thanks," she responded sullenly. What the hell did she want me to do? She got up and left my room, so I continued reading.

It wasn't until over an hour later, when Lin came and sat down in the living room with her nightgown on while I was watching _MASH_, that I noticed the bandage on her. It was one of those things that looks like a band-aid for the Jolly Green Giant, and it was stretched across her knee. "What happened to you?" I asked like I was kind of interested, which I wasn't really but I'm trying to get better at being a brother. Sometimes I forget that I'm not alone anymore, and when you're not just looking out for yourself people expect things from you.

"I fell in the playground," she said. I would have left it at that, except that she avoided my gaze a little too quickly after she answered.

"How did you fall?"

Lin shifted around in the chair and tugged at her nightgown so it was almost covering the bandage.

"Lin!"

She looked down at the floor and switched to her soft defeated voice. "A boy in my class pushed me."

Now, I've never had any brothers or sisters, but for some reason when she said that something kicked in that I have never felt before in my life. It was like I was standing in front of someone challenging a fight. "Who pushed you?" I demanded.

"One of the boys." Lin shifted again. "They make fun of me. Everyone…" She stopped again.

"Everyone what?" By this time she had my full attention and I completely missed Hawkeye's punch line.

"Everyone laughed," she finished in a sigh.

"Lin, look at me." She did, so I didn't have to get up and get pushy. "You tell that kid tomorrow that your brother is coming to see him after school. Tell him to wait by the lunchroom entrance at the back of the school. And make sure some other kids hear you tell him that. You got it?"

Linleigh nodded. "Okay. What're you going to do?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, turning back to my show. Truthfully, though, I knew exactly what I wanted to do to the little jerk who pushed my sister. I wanted nothing less than to put the fear of God in that kid.

How is it that I need to go to the principal's office for a late slip if I walk into a classroom just after the bell rings, but the math teacher can mosey in from lunch whenever he's ready? My class was loitering in the hallway waiting for Mr. Vance. I wondered what he would do if I suggested he go down to the office before starting to teach. Haha, right. I'd probably get suspended for the next two days.

I gazed tiredly around at the kids who are in my class. I'm not friends with any of them. Hell, the only reason I know most of their names is because Mr. Vance calls out our names when he's handing back homework assignments, and I sit in the back row. As I scanned their faces and watched some of them frantically trying to finish their homework my gaze lingered on one of the girls who was sitting against the lockers doodling in her notebook. What was her name…Cathy…Kim…Katie. That was it, Katie. She was cute, but I had never really noticed her until now. She was humming, and I knew that song.

"You watch _MASH_?" I asked her.

It took a second for her to realize I was talking to her. "Who, me?" She squinted up at me.

I opened my mouth to make a sarcastic reply, but couldn't come up with anything fast enough. Kind of unusual for me, but I had been up late the night before. "Yeah. Isn't that what you were humming?"

"Oh, yeah. I watch it with my dad. Did you see it last night?"

"Yeah, it was good." I was trying to picture her watching a show that seemed anything but what a girl would like. "That cast thing was awesome."

Katie laughed. "Yeah. Isn't it weird that Hot Lips got married? I didn't think they would actually go through with it, you know?"

"Yeah, well, I guess probably because it was the last one of the season. They want everyone interested enough to remember to watch it next fall." Does she think I'm a dork and she's just being nice, or did she just give me one of those 'interested' looks? This one was hard to read.

"Good afternoon, class, sorry I'm late. Car trouble." Mr. Vance brushed past me to unlock the door, and then stood aside as everyone filed in.

I hesitated before walking in. "Yes, Victor?" he prompted.

"You got car troubles? I know a guy you should call. He's annoying, but he can fix cars good."

Mr. Vance raised his eyebrows, probably thinking I was going to refer him to a chop shop. "And who is this miracle worker?"

For the first time, it only took me an instant to come up with the answer to that, and what surprised me was that for the first time, it felt good to say it. "He's my uncle."

**Pony's POV**

I was so involved with my paperwork that I didn't hear the phone the first time it rang. I mean, I heard it, but it took the second ring to snap me out of my focus enough to reach over and answer it. "Pony Curtis, Child Protective Services." Where the heck did I put the paper clip I just had?

"Hi Mr. Curtis, it's Grant Smithson."

The sound of our lawyer's voice brought me fully into the present. "Grant, hi! I almost called you yesterday. Do you have any news for me?"

"Well, that's what I'm calling about." The tone of his voice instantly deflated my mood, and I felt myself go cold. "You see, Vic's mother was found. Or rather, she turned herself in last week."

"Okay…" I waited for him to tell me that this was just a little bump in the road, that it would just drag out the paperwork a little longer. "So how does this affect the adoption? What do we need to do?"

Grant's pause made me want to reach through the phone and shake him into spitting it out. "It's just that…well, it looks like the adoption won't be moving forward. Vic's mother had her lawyer with her when she turned herself in, and they've got a judge who's sympathetic to her situation. He's giving her custody of Vic."

I almost dropped the phone. "Custody? But…how the…how could he do that?" I was aware that my voice was steadily getting louder as I spoke, and my coworkers were starting to look over at me. "She was on parole for drug violations. She abandoned him with a father he barely knew. She's been gone for over _three years_! And the judge sympathizes with _her_ situation? What about her _son's_ situation?" The fury in my voice mingled with the desperation I was feeling; I knew already that no matter what I said, nothing was going to change. We were losing him.

"I understand how you feel, Mr. Curtis. I'm having trouble with this one as well. But the judge is extending her parole with no jail time, and she's demonstrated that she has obtained gainful employment. There are conditions attached to the custody arrangement, of course. But he strongly feels the boy should be back with his mother, so he's giving her another chance. I'm sorry. There isn't anything I can do at this point."

I knew he was sorry, and I knew he was upset about this. "Thanks. Thanks, Grant. How long do we…when does he leave?"

"The judge wants him back with his mother by the weekend."

I felt a cold weight drop into my stomach. "Three days." I leaned my head on my hand for support as the immense weight of all of this settled onto me. "I'll tell him tonight."

"Good luck, Mr. Curtis. And I'm sorry. I really am."

"I know. Thanks again, Grant." I set the phone back on the receiver and put my head in my hands. It was Wednesday. Vic was leaving on Saturday. For the rest of the afternoon, in everything I did, my foremost thoughts were of the reaction I would get from Vic that evening, and of what it would take for me to let him be angry with me so that he could go back to his mother without blaming her. Especially since I knew it would be all I could do to keep the bitterness out of my own voice as I tried to help him understand her actions. I didn't. How could he?

**Vic's POV**

As soon as I turned the corner I could see a cluster of kids near the back cafeteria entrance. I strode toward them, scanning the faces for Linleigh. She was near the back wall, looking like a trapped rabbit just barely convincing herself to not shoot off into the alley away from all the wolves.

Without warning, something else came to me with that glance. Lin's clothes were better now, Pony and Melissa had bought her a lot of new stuff and some of the teachers that Liss works with had donated some things, but there was still something there…that defeated, guilty, pathetic look that revealed her belief that whatever those other kids did to her, she deserved. Nobody had ever stood up for her, so she didn't stand up for herself because she thought she wasn't worth it. When they laughed at her, she hung her head. When they called her names, she winced. And when they pushed her, she cried and asked them to please stop. But they didn't, it just egged them on even more as they saw firsthand the power they could have over someone else. If they could focus that power on someone else, make the other kids think that something was wrong enough with that girl that it was okay to criticize her, then they would fall to the background as targets; nobody would pay attention to their flaws and insecurities if they could so easily control another person.

It all came to me within those couple of seconds, and it wasn't because I had ever been the kid that was being picked on and pushed around. I could see clearly in my mind a kid named Freddy Parker – red hair, freckles, glasses, and pants that were too short worn with a shirt that was so big it looked like he could have pitched it in the ground and slept under it. I could see him laying back on the crumbling black asphalt, elbows scraped, eyes pleading and tear-filled, while my buddies and I laughed at him. And for the year that we kept everyone laughing at Freddy, they all failed to notice my shabby clothes, my ragged hair. They didn't suspect Ray's punishments, and nobody ever noticed the bruises.

So when I looked at my sister that day, I saw little Freddy Parker who lived with his grandparents on welfare. Only this time, Freddy had a big brother; and the shame that was now burning through me was even stronger than the anger I had felt the night before. Whatever happened today, these stupid little kids were going to understand that they should never hurt my sister again, no matter what was going on in their lives. It was like I had come full circle, and I was not going to let the rabbit be a martyr to the wolves.

I motioned for Lin to come over to me as a hush fell over the group. As she came to stand beside me I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Where's the little punk who pushed my sister?" I shouted.

Some of them looked scared. The kid who stepped forward with four of his buddies on his tail gave me a cocky look. "I'm not scared of you."

I smiled, and his face faltered slightly. "You don't know what's good for you, then, little boy." Like I'd figured, he looked angry at the insult, and some of the other kids laughed.

"You won't do anything to me, you'll get in trouble," he reasoned in an overly confident and practiced tone.

That time I laughed and walked toward him until I was looking straight down at him and he took half a step backwards. "I been in jail, kid. I have been in trouble for so many things that weren't even worth it." I switched abruptly to a serious look. "You think I'm about to let you get away with touching my sister just because I might get in trouble?" I grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pulled him partway off the ground with a little shake. "You like pushing girls? You think you're tough?" The kid had already been scared, but now he was showing it, and I kept going until the tears were running down his face and he was stammering and sniffling and trying to reason me out of following through with my threats. "You wanna know what it feels like for someone to laugh at you? Maybe some of these kids would like to see what kind of underpants you wear. Batman and Robin? Spiderman?" Some of his buddies were actually snickering now. "Maybe I should just knock out those two front teeth, see how good you can whistle."

By the time I was done with the kid I had done absolutely nothing to him, but he was clearly not the tough guy he had been trying to pull himself off as, and I figured he'd have to figure out a better way now to build his rep back up.

I pushed him to the ground and turned to the cluster of kids who had been watching. "Anyone else have anything to say about my sister?"

Instant silence. "I think she's nice," one girl finally piped up in a defensive voice, like she thought I was going to come after her next, and a few of the others nodded.

"Good. If I ever find out that someone else thinks they can push Lin around, I'll be back, and I won't be nice next time. Now go home, you stinking little brats." They all scattered like cockroaches so that a couple of minutes later it was just me and Lin standing there.

Lin looked up at me and grinned, and some of that defeated look was gone. "Thanks."

I took her books out of her arm and stuffed them into my bag. "Sure." Some kids might still make fun of her sometimes, but now they wouldn't get the reaction they were looking for, and it would get boring fast. It hadn't just been about making them think I was a threat. Now, Linleigh knew she was worth fighting for. Now, she wouldn't believe them anymore. And I knew then without question that she would never need me to step in to defend her again.

**Pony's POV**

"Vic…" It was all I could think to say.

He avoided my gaze, blinked and swallowed, then took a deep breath. "When am I leaving?"

"Saturday morning. I'll take you to the courthouse, so the paperwork can be finished." The lump in my throat wasn't betrayed as I kept my voice steady and calm, a feature gained through years of staying cool and tough under pressure and keeping emotions in check enough to deal with them later. Lin and Melissa weren't so lucky, or maybe were more so, I don't know. At any rate, Melissa kept taking big shaky breaths, and Lin was crying outright.

"I'll start packing," Vic announced stoically.

"Vic, wait…" I reached out and took him by the arm as he stood. "Look, this wasn't supposed to happen, but maybe it'll be okay. Maybe she's changed. Maybe…" Vic's disgusted look stopped me from spilling out the rest of my rehearsed spiel.

"Look, just forget it, okay? I should have known she would want to win. She don't want me. She never did. Just forget anything different was ever supposed to happen, because the good guys don't always win and kids don't have any say. So just forget it, so I can. Okay?" With that said, Vic turned and strode up the hallway; seconds later his bedroom door slammed shut.

"Oh, Pony…what can we do?" Melissa eased herself onto the couch next to me, one arm around Linleigh.

I could feel the rising frustration being trampled by defeat as I leaned over and put my head in my hands. "Nothing, Liss. We can't do anything." After years of struggling financially and emotionally with my brothers after our parents died, and sticking together through it all, I finally had a wife, a house, a good income, and a stable life. Yet now, even all of that wasn't good enough. And all I could picture for the rest of that night and for the next two days was that on Saturday morning, I would have to hand Vic over to the person who was in my mind the equivalent of Johnny's mother. I hated her already.


	15. Family

**A/N: **Well, babies don't wait for anything, so this update was a little longer in coming than I had planned. The stats: girl; October 18th, 3:40am; Kathryn Ann (Katie); 7 pounds, 4.75 ounces; 20.5 inches long; lots of brown hair; and two big brothers – the 4-year-old could do without her and the 6-year-old adores her. Hope y'all enjoy the chapter. So you know where we stand, unless any major changes occur, this will be followed by two more chapters, then an epilogue.

**Dedication**: This one goes out to Christine (it's always nice to find another writing buddy!) and Rock (I felt very rude cutting our conversation short the other night, sorry! When the driver (i.e. Rich) is ready to go, it's time to go!).

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

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**Pony's POV**

I'd like to say that Saturday loomed before us like a great mountain, a difficult journey, a tedious job; but as it turned out, there was no time for looming, or for thinking even, it seemed. We knew Vic was leaving, we got him packed up, we had everyone over for dinner…and without ceremony or care, the week arrived at Saturday.

Melissa and Linleigh said their teary goodbyes at the house in the morning while the syrup-coated plates still sat on the table, half-finished blueberry pancakes on all four of them. I don't think any of us was hungry, it was more like we ate for each others' sake to keep things as normal as possible for as long as possible.

The ride downtown was quiet and awkward – neither of us even bothered with small talk. It was like walking through a dream, the kind where you keep hoping you'll wake up and find it was all a dream, but I didn't, and it wasn't.

High heels clicked by in one direction, an intern clutching an armful of crinkling papers the other direction, as I sat on the hallway bench and waited while the judge talked to Vic. His assistant had called Vic back as soon as we'd arrived. At least the guy didn't keep people waiting, which was about the only nice thing I could come up with about him at the moment.

I almost didn't notice the two women who sat down on the bench across from me. One was wearing a nice business suit and carried a briefcase. The other one, wearing a nice red skirt and a white blouse, had dark hair that hung in shining waves over her shoulders. She smiled nervously at me when I looked up into her familiar eyes. If I had passed her on the street, I would have thought nothing about it, and if anyone had asked me about her, I might have said that she could just as easily have been one of the other teachers at Melissa's school. I mean, she was nice looking. Normal looking. She didn't look like someone who would abandon their own child.

She looked like a mom.

"Hi," she said with another tentative smile.

I nodded; her lawyer was busy jotting notes and shuffling through a lapful of papers.

"Weather's not too bad today," she tried again.

I shrugged. "Guess not." I hadn't really noticed what the weather was like. Could have been Armageddon out there; my only thought was that I was heading to the courthouse to hand Vic over to a monster.

And the woman sitting across from me was not who I had pictured. The woman in my mind had dark hair, but it hung drab and tangled, not in soft ripples. She had spoken to me, but it was in a rough voice that accused me of being a hoodlum, not in a pleasant voice that asked about the weather that I didn't give a damn about. This woman had left her ten-year-old son with a father he didn't know; the woman in my mind had abandoned her son the day he was born without ever having to leave him. Was there a difference? In the end, both boys were kicked puppies. One had died, the other still had a chance.

"Are you the social worker?" she finally asked, and her lawyer gave her a sharp warning glance before turning back to her work.

"Something like that," I answered.

The door next to me opened, and the judge's assistant stepped into the hallway. "You can come in now," she told us. We all filed through the front office and into a larger room crammed to the gills with filled bookshelves, a cluttered executive desk, and an oval table surrounded by eight padded chairs. Vic sat in one of them, looking somewhere between defeated and content.

"Mr. Curtis?" Judge Wallace asked, extending his hand.

I nodded and shook his hand. "Judge." He didn't look much older than Darry, though he was probably in his mid-forties.

"Well then, this shouldn't take too long. Shall we get started?"

We did. Introductions were brief and awkward, the papers were reviewed and signed, the judge gave us a few last pearls of wisdom, and it was over. We all filed back into the hallway, and I realized then that Vic had yet to say anything to his mother, or to look at her, for that matter. A couple of times she had reached over to straighten his hair or touch his shoulder, but retreated like a startled deer when he shook her off.

"Mr. Curtis?"

I turned to Vic's mother, who was wringing her hands as she looked at me with pleading eyes. "I just…I…thank you. For looking out for Vic."

Her gaze shifted downward when I answered, "Somebody had to."

Vic leaned against the wall, bored and looking like he had all the time in the world. His mother looked nervously over to her son before putting her hand on my arm to guide me out of earshot. "Look, I know I messed up. You probably think I'm some kind of monster." Her choice of words took me a little off-guard, and I realized her hands were shaking and she was shifting around like the new student in a school full of kids who she knew were better than her. "I was scared. Ray was hurting us. I thought…I didn't think his dad would…" her voice cracked, and when she put her hand to her mouth and fought for control I forgot for a second who she was, and felt bad for her. "Look, I'm trying," she whispered. "I know he hates me, but I think maybe I can do it this time. You know?"

I did know. She messed up, but she wanted another chance. I knew first-hand what it was like to have someone you loved hurt you. For me, it was just an instant in time, a bad judgment call, an impulsive act brought on by worry and fear and frustration. For Vic, it had been almost four years – four years of wondering why she had left him and whether or not she loved him. Did she? And did it matter if she did? It wasn't for me to figure out.

"He needs to know he can depend on you. He needs a mom," I told her, and she nodded.

"I know."

"Don't let him down again. Please."

"I'll try," she promised, and I knew from the way she was shifting around, and the lack of confidence in her tone, and the commitment that she couldn't make to such an important request, that it was only a matter of time before she would let him down again. All I could do was hope that we'd been enough of a support in his life to help him not get hurt this time.

"I'd like to say goodbye," I said evenly, more a statement than a request. His mother stood wordlessly aside, and I moved over to my first son. "Hey."

Vic looked up at me, and for an instant I saw the panic and despair and…guilt?...flash across his eyes, then he was back to being stoic and in control. "Hi. Or rather, bye." And there was that slightly accusing tone, because I was one of the adults and should have been able to make things right, even though he knew I couldn't. I expected it and was even glad to hear it, to know that I meant enough to him that it hurt him to be leaving. That connection could save his life – whether in a literal or figurative sense remained to be seen – if he went with his instincts.

"If you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. Or call Soda, or Darry, or Melissa – any one of us. For anything. Do you understand? Don't wait until something is wrong. If you need to talk, or if you need a ride, or need help at school, or, Christ, if you can't decide what to wear in the morning – you call one of us. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Pony." I wasn't sure how to end things, until he stepped forward and leaned toward me. My breath caught in my throat as I pulled him toward me and held on to him. When he pressed his face into my shoulder, the smell of his hair, of our shampoo, pulled me back to the first time I had met him, sitting across the desk from me with his hair disheveled and a scowl on his face and those pictures from the hospital laid out in front of me. God, let him be okay. Please let him call me if anything bad ever happens to him again. I'm not his father, not his brother, but he is mine, or I am his, and I cannot stand the thought of anyone hurting him.

Vic gave a last shaky sigh before backing away from me, giving a half-hearted understanding grin, and turning to leave the courthouse with the woman he had lived with for his first ten years. Watching him leave, I couldn't have felt more empty if it had been my own child fading into the distance. Only now, since he wasn't, he didn't have to come back to me if he didn't want to.

I stepped out onto the dreary sidewalk, pulled my scarf around my neck, and headed into the icy wind.

**Vic's POV**

I didn't bother looking back at Pony as we left the courthouse. The last thing I wanted to be doing was bawling like a baby. It was hard enough saying goodbye. I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the piece of paper that had everyone's phone numbers on it. They had each pulled me aside at some point or another over the past few days to make sure I had their number. I didn't need them all written down, I knew them by heart, but feeling that paper in my pocket was almost as good as having them all standing around me, like that night at the school. Just the thought of it sent a surge of pride through me; they were my family, for real. I could deal with anything, knowing that.

"Where the hell is your car?" I asked after we had walked for five blocks.

Mom looked at me, surprised; maybe she forgot I could talk. "Don't have one. We're taking the bus."

"Great," I muttered, loud enough so she could hear. Back to taking the bus everywhere. She ignored my comment.

"Vic…"

"Don't talk to me." I didn't bother looking at her, mostly because I knew it would hurt her if I didn't.

"We have to talk sometime."

"No we don't." I planned to say only as much as I had to for as long as it took for her to know that I hated her, even if I didn't. She didn't have to know the truth. She didn't have to know what the judge and I had talked about, or who had made the final decision. As far as I was concerned, Pony would never know either.

"Okay, you don't need to talk to me, but I'm going to talk to you. Look, I'm sorry. I was young…"

"So was I."

She sighed. "I know. I thought your dad would be…"

"Don't call him my dad. He was my father. And he hadn't seen me since I was two years old." I couldn't believe she was going that route. She had barely known him herself.

"Fine, your father. But you have to know, he never laid a hand on me. I had no way to know what he'd do. He got mad sometimes, but he never laid a hand on me. And he hadn't expected to be a father. It wasn't you, he just wasn't ready, but he gave me money sometimes and came to visit you."

"I don't remember."

"You were too young. He stopped coming when…" she paused, and I knew what was coming next and why she had stopped.

"When you met Ray," I finished.

"Yeah. He didn't like Ray."

"Did anyone, besides you?" I shot back. "Or did you just like the stuff he brought you?" I pushed aside the memory of my mother leaning back against the couch with glassy eyes, staring right through me and not hearing me tell her how hungry I was. I did find something to eat that night – three pieces of bread, probably weeks old, but I ate them. The smell of mold still makes me feel sick.

"Vic, that's over!" I could hear the frustration in her voice, and it made me glad and angry at the same time. What kind of kid makes his own mom upset? I heard her sniffle and looked over quickly. "It was because he was a cop," she finished quietly. "Your dad…father…was into some stuff. Nothing heavy, but Ray made him nervous."

"So you figured he would be the perfect guardian," I answered mockingly, and apparently that was the last straw for her.

"I had nobody! I was twenty-seven, had no job, no help, a boyfriend who was threatening to kill me, and a ten-year-old kid. What was I supposed to do? He said you could stay with him for a while."

"He thought you meant the afternoon, and you knew it!" I shouted. I don't know what I would have done in her spot, but it pissed me off that she had dumped me after all the stuff she had let Ray get away with. She was looking after herself, and trying to make it come off as concern for me. We both stopped talking as the bus rumbled up in front of us, giving off a shivering sigh of exhaust just before the door opened. Mom tossed some coins into the token box, and I followed her past the mill workers just off their shift to the back of the bus.

"Look, Vic, this is the way things are now, okay? I'm trying, I really am. You have to give me another chance. Okay? I need you, baby."

I shut my mouth and sat back in my seat. She needed me, alright. But she was the mom; wasn't _I_ supposed to need _her_?

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Thanks to all who reviewed: 

fanficfan: Thanks for the review; I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

printandpolish: I like the new penname! Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. On Pony's kids – without saying too much before the next couple of chapters, I picture Pony and Melissa taking in as many as they believed they could help. Thanks again!

rose: Thanks so much, to both you and whomever recommended the story! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

soliteyah: Thanks, I'm so glad you're enjoying! I'm partial to Darry as well. Maybe I can get more of him into whatever my next story is.

caillion: Don't worry about Vic, he's resilient! Thanks so much for the review. That's so sad about the kids being split up, I hope things work out for them.

Tai-dye: Thanks for the review, hope you liked the update!

random stuff about stuff: Thank you so much, that's quite a compliment. Hope you enjoyed!

Scarlett7: Hi, thanks for the review. I know which post you mean, but it was actually a different story that Ms. Hinton read, there used to be a link to it. It's awesome to know she checks out some of the stories on the site, isn't it?

babygurl33: Sorry! Thanks for the review, hope you liked this chapter!

Nice Hobbitses: Thanks so much for the detailed review, it's always great to know what people liked or didn't like about the story. I love writing this one, and there is so much I would like to include and give more details on that I don't simply because it would take things off track. Pony's dream issues come from listening to and reading accounts of veterans, so I'm glad it came off as realistic (though I'm sorry to hear about your husband having nightmares). Thanks again; have you had the baby? I was early with my first two, and early with this one. Good luck!

TimeMage0955: Thanks so much, hope you enjoyed!

darkdestiny2000: Thanks so much! Vic's turning out to be a good brother, eh? He surprises even me. Hope you liked the update!

Fairlane: Thanks, the school scene was one that just flowed. I didn't even know what Vic was going to be thinking until I was in the middle of it. These people are becoming too real! Is that possible? Your comments about Vic's age and the decisions being made about him were right along the lines of what I was thinking, and are somewhat foreshadowed in this chapter. It'll come out again later. Hope you enjoyed!

Tensleep: Thanks! Yeah, I love adding the details too. And Vic was just settling in, feeling at home…You know, with that mustard thing, I almost gave him baloney for lunch (a big thing in the 70's), then realized what a stupid idea that was. Glad you enjoyed!

Scarlett7: Thanks so much for the review, glad you enjoyed the chapter! And thanks for the good wishes, everything went well!

Rosie: Thanks so much for the review; I really do enjoy responding to them, so hopefully skipping a chapter on them doesn't happen too often! Hope you enjoyed this chapter – Darry and Soda will both be coming up in the next chapter!

Keira: Thank you! We think along the same 'name' lines with Katie, eh? Maybe I should write a story about Vic on Fictionpress, since I'm not sure how much of his social life I'll be able to fit into the rest of the story as it nears the end. But then, I'm also working on a Gavin story…have I completely lost my mind! Thanks again for the review and all the very nice things you said.

Hahukum Konn: Thanks so much for the review; yeah, Vic is seeming more and more like a less dangerous Dallas. He's got that no-nonsense personality, but with less mean and more empathy. Hope you enjoyed!

kaz456: Thanks so much; I love getting and responding to reviews! Glad you enjoyed, and hope you liked this one!

Rock: Hey, I'm glad you enjoyed. The next chapter is half written, so hopefully the next update happens soon. I always like responding to the reviews, last time was kind of a fluke; I don't plan to be 8.5 months pregnant again anytime soon!

kimmerkay: Thanks so much, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! More to come soon…

Julie: I'm so sorry, that's awful. I like to write as realistically as I can, but it is so hard knowing that the things I'm "making up" are happening to actual people. I'm glad you enjoyed chapter 14; thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoyed this one. Take care!

Tessie26: Hi, sorry for the long update on that last one! I saw the new Outsiders DVD, and love the new scenes. Everything fits together so much better. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

screaming666: Thanks for the review! Hope I didn't get you crying again!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying the story and finding the characters as real as I find them. Hope you enjoyed!

virgil-t-stone: Thanks so much! I finished this one as soon as I could, and the next is half-written, so hopefully it's posted pretty soon. Hope you enjoyed!


	16. Life Goes On

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders; I'm doing this purely for fun, no profit involved!

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**Pony's POV**

The first night that Vic was gone, I was jolted out of one of my own nightmares to the sound of screaming. Melissa was already scrambling out of the bed, grabbing for her robe and pulling it on as she raced toward the doorway. I followed, yanking on the pants I'd thrown over the chair, as the screaming continued.

"Linleigh!" Melissa said, quietly but sharply. "Lin, it's okay, we're here." She sat on the edge of the bed and put her arm around Lin, and the screams gradually gave way to sobs before tapering off into shaky gasps. "Shhh…you had a bad dream." Liss stroked Linleigh's hair and crooned softly while I stood aside feeling kind of inadequate.

"I need Vic," Lin finally said. "I need Vic."

I turned on her desk lamp and knelt on the floor in front of her. "He's not here, honey. Remember? He left today." I couldn't imagine why she would be asking for Vic in the middle of the night.

"But he sleeps with me," she blurted out, and the expressions on our faces must have made her realize that wasn't something she had actually wanted to share.

"What?" I asked, working to keep my voice calm.

Melissa put her hand on my arm as if there was a switch there that she could turn off to keep me from saying something stupid. I guess there was, because I shut my mouth and let her take over the questioning. "Lin, what do you mean?"

Linleigh shook her head. "He told me not to say anything."

I tensed, and Melissa tightened her grip on my arm. "It's okay, we're not mad. We just want to know what you mean," she replied with impressive calm.

Linleigh looked skeptical and brushed the damp hair off the side of her face. "I was scared. I have dreams, and when I wake up I'm afraid he'll find me and steal me through the window."

"Who will find you?" I asked, forgetting about Vic for the moment.

"Tom. Aunt Lisa's boyfriend."

Melissa and I looked at each other, startled. "Oh, sweetheart." Liss pulled Linleigh close to her. "Why didn't you tell us you were afraid? You know we have locks on the windows, and Pony and I are right across the hallway."

Lin shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He could still get in." A panicked edge was creeping into her voice. "I need my brother."

"Lin, what exactly was going on with Vic?" I was beginning to get the picture, and finally trusted myself to speak.

"You won't get mad?"

"No, we won't get mad."

Lin looked down and twisted the bow on her nightgown. "He came in here at night, after everyone was asleep, and slept on the floor next to my bed."

"How long has he been doing that?" I asked, my emotions jumping from shock and anger to pride in that instant.

"Since Thanksgiving weekend. He was awake when I had a dream. He said I didn't have to worry if he was there next to me, nobody was going to get past him to take me."

Melissa wiped at her eyes. "Vic has been sleeping on the floor every night for three months?" I asked. Lin nodded. I smiled. He'd probably done more for her than her psychiatrist, just by validating her fears. "Okay Lin, here's what we'll do. You go sleep in our room tonight, and in the morning I'll call Darry over to set something up. Sound good?"

Lin visibly relaxed and nodded. "Okay."

I didn't bother telling her that Tom had no idea where we lived, or who she was staying with, or that our house was locked up every night tighter than Fort Knox. She knew all that. But knowing it wasn't enough. If there couldn't be somebody right there next to her while she slept, she needed tangible evidence that her demons could not get into her bedroom.

**Darry's POV**

Zzzzzzp Zzzzzzp.

"There, I think that about does it." I put the drill on the ground next to me and gave the bars a shake. "Go ahead, give 'em a pull."

Linleigh held on to those bars and pulled with everything she had, then smiled at me.

"Good? And look, if you ever need to get out through your window, just undo the latch from the inside and push. It'll open right up." Linleigh followed me into her bedroom and watched me unlatch the bars without even having to open the window. Like an iron gate, it swung open smoothly. "Then, you just open the window and pull it back shut." I showed her how, then stood and watched while she went through the process a couple of times. "Nobody but King Kong himself is getting that window open, Linleigh, and he ain't big enough to fit through. Here, you go ahead and put these tools back where they belong for me. I'm gettin' too old to be running up and down the basement steps.

Linleigh laughed. "You'll never be too old for anything," she informed me.

"Well, thank you for the confidence, Miss Linleigh." I piled the tools into her arms and watched her haul them off toward the basement. It had taken a while, but she finally didn't seem to be afraid of me anymore.

"All done?" Ponyboy asked from the doorway.

"Yeah. Good thing, too, it's getting cold as hell out there with the sun setting." I've never been much for the cold unless I've got a couple of skis strapped on.

"Hey, thanks for doing this. I mean, I know we don't need bars on the windows, but…"

"Pony, I'm not stupid. It wasn't all that long ago that I moved you and Soda into the same room. The mind is a powerful thing."

"Yeah, I guess so. I really hope this works." He sat down on the bed and stared out the window.

"So," I began, hoping I wouldn't sound like a worried hen, "how have your dreams been? Soda and I could weld up another one of these things in a few hours."

Pony returned my smile. "I wish it was that easy. The sessions are helping, though. It's like when I was a kid – the dreams get worse when bad things are happening, to put it simply. Dad's journal is helping, too." I noticed he dropped his gaze then.

"Pony?" Amazing how using the right tone can communicate exactly what you want. Maybe it has more to do with the person you're talking to knowing what to expect from you, and the other way around.

"Darry, I miss Dad. I don't mean like after they first died, when I missed them because you love and need your parents and everything is wrong when they're suddenly not there. I mean, now that I have a wife, a family…"

"You want to ask him things that never occurred to you to even think about when you were thirteen," I finished, sitting down on the bed next to my brother.

"Yeah. There are so many things I want to talk to him about, and sometimes I think I'll go crazy just knowing I can't ever ask him. You know?"

"Yeah, I know. Happens to me too." For some reason Ponyboy looked surprised. "I'd only just turned twenty when they died. You think I ever asked him how he knew that Mom was the one he wanted to marry? Or what he said to fix things when they got into a fight? Or how to keep everything running smoothly when he wasn't sure he could even pay half of the bills? Haven't had that one for a while, but right after they died was the first time I really understood Mom and Dad. I mean, really understood them – for that matter, gave any thought at all to what they went through every day. I knew, but I didn't."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Just reading Dad's journal, it's like he was a real person, not just Dad. I mean, not that I didn't think he was a real person…" I nodded understanding, and Ponyboy continued. "Like, the way he wrote. I never knew before that he wrote. And some of the things he thought about and things that bothered him when he was in the war…it was like it was me writing it. And we read some of the same books, he talks about some of them in his journal."

"Ponyboy, if there's anything you want to ask me, I can give it a shot. I'm not Dad, but I can try." I almost gave him a knock in the arm for the skeptical look he gave me. "Want me to call Soda over instead?" I asked. That got a grin that saved him a little pain, since my next attempt at being helpful would have been to help him down onto the floor and remind him who had been in charge for five years of his life.

"Sorry. I just…Darry, I have no idea how to be a father. Here I am with Linleigh, and we almost had Vic, and now the baby will be here before we know it, and I just have no idea what I am doing. It's like I'm playing house and making it up as I go along."

He sounded desperate, and I had no idea what to tell him. So that was what I told him. "Ponyboy, I can tell you that I had no clue how to run things after Mom and Dad died. But do you think they knew what they were doing all the time? I don't think there is any parent out there who isn't second-guessing just about every decision they made and every comment they made or didn't make, when it involves their kids. And I mean that whether they're the parents because they gave birth, or because they got thrown into the middle when things went wrong, or because they met their kids when they were already bruised and bloodied from the world. You're doing fine, Pony. And you'll keep doing fine, because you know what's important and you know how to use your head." Ponyboy looked at me like I'd just told him I was an alien from the planet Hush. "What?"

"Half my life you've been telling me I don't use my head," he told me. Had I?

"Well, I guess you didn't for a while, but I guess a lot of fourteen-year-old kids don't use their heads for things I think are important. You made it this far, you must be doing something right."

He smiled, and I wondered about that grin as he stood and moved slowly toward the door. "Thanks, Darry. You were a lot of things for us, and parent was definitely up there on the list."

"But?" I prodded, and he grinned again.

"But I'll tell you, it ain't easy being a kid, and it's even harder when you live with Superman, especially when he's a hard-headed…"

Pony never finished what he was saying; evidently he misjudged how long it would take me to cross the room. When Melissa came in to call us for dinner she found her husband sprawled out on the floor getting his arm twisted off. One of the few benefits of the position life had put me in, and which it took me a few years to realize – I can revert from father-figure back to brother whenever it's convenient. And it wasn't until I'd figured that out that I started to understand my youngest brother.

**Pony's POV**

The icy chill of February gave way to the howling winds of March, which gradually submitted to April, and just when it seemed like winter would never end, the trees sprouted new green buds and the heavy coats were put away in exchange for light spring jackets and sweatshirts. I pushed open the bedroom window and breathed in the night air. Linleigh was staying over at a friend's house, and Melissa was taking a shower.

"Pony?" Melissa called from the bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"Could you bring me a towel? I forgot one."

She was really forgetting everything these days. "Yeah, be right there." I pulled a fresh towel from the linen closet and took it into the bathroom. Liss was just stepping out of the shower. I stood there and stared at her.

"Pony? The towel?" I don't know what came over me, but it suddenly felt like I hadn't taken a good look at my wife for the last four months. I'd always thought she had a great body, but now, with her belly sticking out as big as a basketball, a whole new view of perfection overcame me. I couldn't stop staring at her. "Why are you staring at me?" she finally asked, looking down to see if there was something wrong.

"It's just…you're so…"

"Big? Fat? Bulky?"

"Beautiful," I breathed, and she blushed. "No, really. God, Melissa, look at you. You've got our baby in there." I stepped forward and put the towel over her shoulders. She started to wrap it around herself. "No, don't," I said. "I'm still looking."

"Should we…go in the bedroom?" she asked with a provocative smile.

"Yeah? No headaches or leg pains or anything?"

"No, I'm doing good tonight. Let's go." I followed her into the bedroom and pulled my shirt off while she laid on the bed. "Here, lay next to me," she said, patting the bed.

I wasn't about to argue. I laid down next to her, propping my head up on my arm, elbow on the bed. "Here, let's get this out of the way," I suggested, sliding the towel off of her.

"Remember when you used to stay at my place sometimes in college?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah. Only now, we don't have to tie a ribbon on the doorknob."

Her mouth dropped. "You're kidding. Right?"

"I forgot, you didn't know about that. Shelly and I worked that out together. You had a cool roommate."

Melissa shook her head. "Oh my God. So every time we were…that's why she never happened to come home?"

"Yeah. Let's not talk about that right now." I ran my hand up and down her side, feeling like I was more a part of her with every curve my fingers passed over. I leaned forward and kissed her, taking a shuddering breath as she traced my lips with her tongue and slid her hand down the front of my jeans. "You are perfect," I whispered.

"Thanks," she whispered back. "Oh! Wait a sec…hang on, sorry." I rolled onto my back while Melissa readjusted herself. "Sorry. Baby shifted, I need to pee…" Melissa rolled herself over and stumbled off of the bed with the clumsy grace of someone whose center of gravity has shifted drastically.

"I'll be here," I promised.

She was back in the room a couple minutes later and resumed her post on the bed. "Now, where were we before junior interrupted?"

I rolled onto my side again and kept rolling, until my leg was straddling both of hers and our bare chests were pressed together. "This about right?"

I slid my tongue into her mouth, and was barely aware of the contented "Mmmmm…" she replied with. Having her as my wife, I sometimes take for granted what great friends we are, and how well we work together, in everything.

It was nice to be reminded.

>>>>>

"Pony, would you quit that damn whistling? What the hell is wrong with you?" Steve peered at me from under the car he was working on.

"Aw, let him whistle," Soda said, smiling knowingly at me and giving me a punch in the arm. "Melissa must've been feeling good last night."

When I was younger that comment would have had me red and crawling under the floor. I just grinned at Soda's insight and wondered how he had got to figuring me out so well, even about things we didn't talk much about. "Hey Soda, you know if Melanie is coming to the shower?"

"Yeah, she is. I don't know, man, she keeps showing me that little outfit she bought. Keeps showing me how small and cute it is."

"Is it?" I smiled at Soda, and he grinned back.

"Looks like something that goes on somebody who's way too small for me to attempt to dress. So what's with these showers? How come they're just for women, anyways? What is it they do that we aren't allowed to see?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? Gossip? Eat? Open gifts? Dance in a circle while chanting and burning a chicken?"

Soda laughed. "I guess I'd just as soon not know. Does she know about it?"

"No, not a clue, or so her mom thinks. I'm pretty sure she knows, though. I mean, there aren't too many weekends they could have picked, and her mom is all of a sudden inviting her over for lunch?"

Soda reached into the engine and gave something a twist. "Hand me that Coke. Thanks." I watched him swig half the bottle before handing it back to me. "Hear from Vic lately?"

"A few weeks ago. Said he wanted to make sure the phone was still working. I guess he couldn't come up with a good excuse this time." I smiled, thinking back on it. Poor kid had come up with every excuse in the book over the last two months. At first I had met up with him almost once a week to take him things that he'd "forgotten" when he packed up and moved. Lately his calls had been tapering off, though. It felt disturbingly like he was weaning himself away from us.

"How's Liss doing? Darry said you ain't too thrilled with her doc. What's the story?"

I gave a shudder and filled my brother in on the details.

A month earlier Melissa had come home from one of her appointments, all excited. "I have great news!" she informed me. I was washing dishes.

"Oh yeah?" I'd said. "What?"

"Doctor Gilman, well, you know how he tends to go with some of the newer birthing techniques?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he told me today that he's been allowing fathers into the delivery room if they want! Isn't that great?"

"The delivery room?" I asked. "You mean, like, when you're having the baby?"

Melissa looked a bit taken aback by my reaction. "Well, yes. When else would you want to be there? You do want to, don't you?"

The disappointed look she was giving me was too much. "What? Yeah, of course I want to be there! That sounds great. I mean, wow!"

"Wow, alright," Soda commented. "How bad can it be, though? I mean, she gets in a bed, the baby comes out, the doctor catches it. It's not like you need to do anything, right?"

"No, I guess not. We're signed up for a class, though, so I can learn to not do anything."

"A class?" Soda stopped what he was doing. "What kind of class?"

"Teaches Melissa how to breathe, or something. It starts in two weeks." I took the wrench Soda was handing me and dropped it into the toolbox.

"Huh. Classes that teach you how to do something you've been doing since you were born, and dads going into the delivery room to not do anything. What next?"

"I dunno, Soda. Phones you carry around in your pocket?"

**Linleigh's POV**

I dug through the mailbox for a letter, which I do every day. Most days there isn't one, but today there was. I tucked it into my pants and pulled the rest of the stuff out to give to Mom.

"Do you want a snack, Lin?"

"No thanks, I'll be in my room."

Mom spotted the letter and smiled. Okay; I'll be in the kitchen grading papers. If you want, come out here when you're done reading your letter."

"Okay." I hurried to my bedroom, dumped my bookbag on the bed, and opened the window to let in the fresh spring air before flopping on the bed and ripping open the letter.

_Linleigh,_

_Got your letter. Why are we doing this? I have a phone, you know. You're a nut. If anyone asks, I'm telling them I'm writing to my girlfriend._

I smiled. I could almost see him rolling his eyes and calling me "such a girl". But he always wrote back to me.

_If that boy you wrote about makes any other cute comments, punch him in the face the way I showed you. Don't worry about getting in trouble, no way he'll be dumb enough to blab that it was a girl who gave him a bloody nose. My teacher's giving me looks, so I'm done with this letter. Have fun at Melissa's shower._

_Your brother, Vic_

**Pony's POV**

"So where do you want the rest of this stuff?" Two-Bit stood in the living room with an armful of boxes, spilling pastel tissue paper all over the floor.

"Umm…just toss it on the couch for now," I told him, nodding toward the couch as I sorted through the mail. It was the Tuesday after Melissa's baby shower, and I had finally gotten over to her parents' house to pick up the rest of the gifts. Or rather, Two-Bit had finally gotten me over there. Our car was having issues, so I'd gotten a ride to work the day before, and took off from work on Tuesday since Melissa had a half-day. She had a doctor's appointment after lunch, and I'd planned on going with her, but she thought it would work out better if me and Lin went and picked up all the stuff. It was just as well, there wasn't much happening at her appointments these days – she got weighed, measured, the doc listened for a heartbeat, asked if she had any questions, and she was done.

"Hey, Dad, did you see this thing?"

"No." How did we manage to get our electric bill that high? I looked across the room to Lin. "Huh? See what?"

"This. Isn't it adorable?" She was holding up what looked like a tangle of little teddy bears strangling on the ends of yellow string.

I was stumped. I'm the first one in our family to have a baby, and I'm finding more and more often that there's a lot about them I don't know. What would it be like when the baby actually arrived? "What is that thing?" I asked.

Lin gave me a sympathetic look, I assume in response to my blatant ignorance. "It's a mobile."

"Oh, right. A mobile." I didn't bother asking what a mobile was for.

"I'm home!" Melissa called from the foyer. She joined us in the living room, nearly shaking with apparent excitement. "Hi honey," she greeted, stopping to give me a kiss before dropping heavily into the chair. "Hello, Two-Bit!"

"Hi Mommy, how was the doc visit?" Two-Bit popped a Coke open and leaned in the kitchen doorway.

Melissa smiled. "Pony, sit down." I did, feeling something inside of me clench with worry, even though she looked happy. "Everything was good, but Dr. Gilman was still concerned that I've gained more weight than it seemed like I should at this point. Evidently some kind of pregnancy diabetes can result in a bigger baby…"

"You have diabetes?" I cut in.

"No, Pony, just let me finish!" She was still grinning, so I calmed down a little. "Well, he spent a little more time pressing around today, to check the position of the baby, and listening for the heartbeat, and…well,…he found two heartbeats!"

"Get the hell out!" Two-Bit piped up from the doorway. "The kid's got two hearts?"

He was just being funny, but to be honest, for some reason that was the first thing that popped into my head for a second, rather than the more logical explanation.

"Twins?" Lin asked. I still hadn't said anything.

"Yes," Melissa confirmed. "There are some twins on my Mom's side of the family, so I guess it's not too surprising. Apparently you also have more of a chance of having twins if it's the first month you're off the pill – something about the hormones – and since I had been…Pony? Are you okay?" Now Melissa was looking worried. Was I okay?

"Really?" I said stupidly. "There's two of them in there?" I had about six hundred new questions that I wanted to ask, things I needed to know. Two babies? At the same time? Holy…

"Twins," I said out loud, trying out the word in an attempt to get used to the concept. I stood up and went over to sit on the arm of Melissa's chair, reaching down and patting her belly. "Twins." It was sounding better every time I said it. I smiled at my wife. Was I crazy? No, I wasn't crazy. I was better than crazy. I was a dad.

**Darry's POV**

"Look, Jenn, I honestly don't care what we watch." We had been going in circles for ten minutes. How that happened when there are only five channels, I haven't a clue.

"But you said before that you don't like this show. I don't want you to watch something you're not interested in." She actually thought it made a difference to me.

"I don't care! Really. I'll just be sitting here staring at you, anyway…" I reached over and slid her up against me just as the phone rang.

Jenn smiled at me. "Sorry, Charlie. You'll have to watch me from over by the phone. While I watch my show."

I gave her a light pinch on the leg before getting up to answer the phone. "Yeah, hello?"

There was a pause on the other end, making my mind instantly make three different simultaneous assumptions: it was a wrong number; something was wrong with someone; or something so good had happened that somebody thought I needed to know about it at nine-thirty at night. The last scenario has never happened, so I wasn't hopeful.

"Darry?" It was Vic. "Sorry to call so late."

"No, hey, it's okay. What's wrong?" And I knew something was wrong, by the hesitation and his shaking voice. Was he crying? It terrified me.

"I…can you come over?" He paused for a second, sniffling. "I need some help. I just can't do this anymore. I tried, but…I can't. Can you come over?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Years of taking care of my brothers had taken the worry and panic out of my voice, but not out of my heart.

"No, I'm not hurt. I'm okay. But I can't do this anymore. I need my family." With the sob that came out with that last statement, I dropped the phone back onto the receiver and pulled my sweatshirt on.

"My nephew needs me, Jenn," I told her, leaning over to give her a kiss. "I'm not sure when I'll be back. Don't wait up."

* * *

Note: In case anyone is more familiar with current practices: ultrasounds were not standard practice in 1976, so it wasn't uncommon for parents of twins to not be aware of the situation until delivery, or not very long before hand; also, up until around that time, dads either went home and waited for the phone to ring, or sat in the waiting room until the doctor/nurse came out to tell them what the sex of the baby was. Some doctors were just starting to allow fathers into the delivery room.

Won't be long before Chapter 17, it's already in the works. Thank you so much to all who reviewed:

Fairlane: Thanks! Glad you got it, and that you understood Vic's motives. I find I like doing adult-Pony's POV, so I'm glad it came off well. Yeah, I couldn't see either of them falling apart or getting too dramatic. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

horrorpop: Well, hope you enjoy the first six chapters if you get to them! Thanks for the review!

random stuff about stuff: Thank you! Glad you're enjoying the story, hope you liked the update.

nycgal5490: Thank you, and I don't think I could stop writing, whether anyone was reading it or not! Hope you enjoyed.

babygurl33: Ah, sorry! And thanks! Yeah, our last one would have been Katie, but he was a boy, so he's Will instead. Good to know so many readers have enough scruples to dislike Vic's mom.

darkdestiny2000: Thank you, everything's going well here! Hope you enjoyed!

Dawes123: Yep, not only have I seen it before, I'm related to one. Thanks, I've been enjoying writing this. That's interesting, I'm wondering which points came off as implausible; much of the story ideas come from either personal experience, or the lives of those around me. I find that many readers respond and relate at least as well to the mundane originality associated with everyday life as to the jaw-droppingly original stories; so, that's what I write about. I would probably make a mess of things anyway if I tried to write anything other than what I'm familiar with (notwithstanding at least one of my original stories, as I had to create the world for that one). I agree about the original characters, and it's funny you bring that up – this chapter and the last one were originally intended to be one chapter (if you noticed, the last one was only about half the length of my normal chapters). When it was pushing 5,000 words and I hadn't gotten to my endpoint, though, I decided to sever the chapter, post Vic's leaving and let it stand on its own, and finish this one up as chapter 16. I do like to try and keep a certain balance between the original characters and the ones I wrote in without making it seem like nobody has actually moved on and established other relationships in their lives, so it's good to hear when I'm moving too far on either side of the line. Thanks again for the review!

pumpkinhead0402: Thank you, hope you enjoyed this chapter!

fanficfan: Thanks so much, I'm really glad you're enjoying the story! It's good to hear the characters are coming off okay. Yeah, I'd always wondered what could have happened to them as well, so this was what I came up with. As for some of the more specifics that you brought up: I also thought Pony sounded better as an adult name, and I laughed when I saw that in your review, because if you notice in this chapter (I'd already had most of it written), Darry is one of the only people who still tacks the "boy" part back on his name, especially when he's thinking about him. I like writing about Two-Bit, but for some reason didn't get as many chances as I would have liked. I think he needs his own story! Maybe I can do some one-shots branching off of this one…hmmm…

As for the rest, I'm so glad you liked it all. Oh, and about Randy – in the movie his name was Anderson (if you look at the credits), and in the book it was Adderson. Thanks again for the review and the blessing; I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

iluvsoda: Oh, sure, blame the author when things go wrong! Okay, I suppose I _do_ have some iota of control over the events…Hope you enjoyed!

RangerDan: Thanks, I'm working on it!

Taurus: Yeah, I'm behind on everything too. Thanks! Yeah, he's warming up to her, so hopefully by the time she's sixteen he's keeping an eye out for her! Yes, two more chapters – possibly three, if the next one gets obscenely long and I have to chop it apart (that sounds so brutal). Thanks, I'm glad you liked the ending. Hope this one did the same!

kimmerkay: Thank you! Well, when they say don't lift anything heavier than the baby and stay off your feet for a while, there's not much else to do other than read and write (aside from the diapers, feedings, burping, pacing with crying baby, etc.). How's the pup, by the way? And the floors? Mopping all done? Hahah. Oh, yeah – glad you enjoyed the chapter! I'm partway through the next chapter as well, so pretty soon now I should be able to wrap this one up. Thanks again for the review, hope you enjoyed this one!

Nice Hobbitses: Thank you! Wow, hope that didn't work! Let me know if/when the baby came, I've been wondering! (feel free to email, I'm here all the time!). Good to know Vic comes across to some others as real, as well. I know some kids who have had problems with one of their parents, and they were anything but fragile and immature growing up. I guess it can go either way – you end up turning into the parent, or becoming their opposite. A few of the ones I know went the second route. All of them, though, have had trouble letting go of the guilt that comes with trying to separate themselves from that parent.

I hope your husband is/was well-rested. Mine had gotten up extra early that morning for work, then came home and took Benadryl for an allergy attack (this was two hours before we went to the hospital), so post-epidural but pre-baby he finally got some sleep.

Again, it's good to hear that my research and information came off as authentic. I wish you and your husband the best, and good luck with the baby!

Oh, yeah – that game was pretty decent! Been a while since the Lions have had a really good year, so I was happy about it. We get to see more of the games now, too; ABC and ESPN don't seem to want to put them on when they're losing, go figure!

MisCeleste: Thanks for asking! This chapter was originally attached to the last one, but when it became very long and wasn't near the endpoint yet, I separated them into two chapters and posted the last one, even though it was rather short. As I told another reviewer, I like to try and keep a balance between the original characters (i.e. S.E. Hinton's) and the ones I created, so it's good to have people point out when things are going too far one way or the other. So, hope you enjoyed chapter 16!

printandpolish: Sure, anytime! I'll still have to get that story…Thanks so much, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I can see all of it as I'm writing it, so it's good to hear when it is clear and makes sense to someone else as well. Wow, you had a dream about Vic! Now that's a compliment! I thought I was the only one who had dreams about my characters (love Justin, by the way!). Thank you, and best of luck to you with Kristina and Thomas!

Ale Curtis-Carter: Wow, you're one of my original reviewers from way back when, so it'll be sad for me too when the story ends. There may be two more chapters after this one if things get long, so it's not dragged out, but I'll try to keep it all flowing well. My intent was to take it through a year, so as I'm nearing that point I don't want to start dropping in new plot lines and stuffing things in just to fill it up. Some of the issues will be wrapped up (to an extent, anyway), while some I'm not planning on going back to at this point, since I'm afraid it would seem too neat and tidy if I do (like what's going on with Tracy). I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks so much for the review!

Tensleep: Thank you! Yeah, very emotional, I'm glad you liked it. Thanks so much, that's a great compliment! It'll be sad for me when this one is over, it was my first one! Now I sound like I'm talking about…well, nevermind. Hope you enjoyed!

callion: Thank you; great name, eh? Thanks again; yeah, moms who need their kids instead of the other way around ("need" used in the true sense of the word in this case, as I feel like I need my kids, but not to take care of me for goodness sake (not for another fifty or sixty years, anyway!)).

Hahukum Konn: Yes, and the next is already started, too! I'm too close to the end for long updates! Hehe…well, I could have put The End on that one, but I think some reviewers would have been upset with me. I know what you mean, though; that would have been a great place to end in preparation for a sequel. Thanks for the review, hope you enjoyed!

Keira: Yes, sad has to happen so the happy times stand out more clearly! Corny, eh? Yeah, Vic's mom isn't too popular around here. Amazing that there are real people like that, and I know there are, because I know some of them and/or their kids. Oh, I have so many stories in my head, I'm constantly walking around with a notebook. Jack's always asking me, "how come you always have to write?" and I say, "well, you're using the TV, what else am I supposed to do?" Hahah! A few months ago I actually started writing a story about Gavin (it's handwritten), starting a week or two before the fair scene in the book (oh my gosh, I'm calling it a book now, I really need help!). Thanks for the review!

Rock: Wow, sorry! Controlled crying is good though, right? Yeah, it didn't take long for Pony to achieve that bond with Vic. Hopefully this combined with the next chapter make Vic's motives a little clearer with respect to his mom. Hope you enjoyed!

She Pukes Glitter: You have got some of the most visual-producing identities, I love it. Thanks for the review, glad I didn't get you crying! Yeah, Vic's in one of those parent/child role reversal deals, and he's keeping up his end of the role. Boys take care of their moms, or so I hear! Lucky for me, since I've got two of them…Thanks again, and good luck to your friend.


	17. There, and Back Again

**A/N: **Once again I am chopping a chapter in half. Sorry for the short chapter, but this much and a couple more pages have been written for a while, but not quite finished, and it's been a little busy here. So after this, there will be at least two more chapters. Thanks for reading, and to all those who reviewed chapter 16, I will be replying to your reviews as soon as I can. For now, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter! – Liz

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**Darry's POV**

Shadows, some of men and some of unknown origin, backed into the even deeper shadows of the run-down buildings as I passed by. Maybe they thought I was an undercover cop, or maybe they had just learned to be wary of anyone they couldn't overpower. At any rate, nobody bothered me as I quickly made my way toward Vic's apartment building.

The front door of the building was propped open with a wadded-up newspaper. How did these people expect to stay safe if they did things like that? Ironically, they needed locks on the doors to protect themselves from each other. What kind of shape is mankind in that we've become our own predator?

I tossed the newspaper inside the doorway and pulled the door closed so it locked behind me. The place Vic shared with his mom was on the fourth floor. I took the steps two-at-a-time. It was just as well I was in a hurry; the stairway smelled like a putrid mix of alcohol and vomit. My fist landed loud and hard on the flaking paint of the door, knocking a couple more brown pieces off and exposing the light green beneath.

The door opened a crack; when Vic saw that it was me he shut the door and unlatched the chain. "What'd I tell you about opening the door before asking who it is?" I reprimanded as he backed into the living room. "One kick and I could have ripped that chain right off the…what the hell? I thought you said you weren't hurt!" There were dark crimson stains covering the front of his t-shirt.

Vic glanced down distractedly. "Huh? Oh. No, I'm not. Come in here."

I followed him the rest of the way in. In the dim light it took me a minute to realize that his mom was lying on the couch. As I moved closer I saw the bloodied towel pressed against her head. "What happened?"

"She fell on the way up, I guess. That's what the guy said, anyway. He helped me get her in." Vic had the exhausted appearance of someone who is tired, but not from lack of sleep. "Then he left. He was drunk, too, just not as bad as her. I couldn't…I can't stop the bleeding. I didn't know who else to call. If I called an ambulance, they'd do a report at the hospital, and I just…" He looked up at me, and then away as the tears welled up. "I can't do this," he whispered.

"Okay, it's alright." I moved the towel to take a better look at the wound. Vic's mom moaned and tried to roll over, blissfully unaware of what was happening around her. "Looks like it could use a few stitches, but she'll be okay. And I think I know who I can call."

"She told me she was getting help, going to those meetings." Vic took a sip of the juice I'd dug out of the refrigerator for him. "I believed her. I mean, I guess I didn't, but I did. I wanted to." He looked up at me with eyes that were even older than they had been three months earlier. "She's my Mom, Darry. Why couldn't she do this?"

Damn good question. I sat down next to him. "Vic, I know this doesn't help, but it isn't because of you. Maybe she did try, but you weren't the reason she couldn't do it. She was."

He nodded and took a shaky breath. "I know. I wish she could have, though. I didn't wanna have to…I don't want to have to leave her. But I just can't do this anymore. I'm sorry." Vic leaned forward, head in his hands, and didn't bother trying to stop himself from crying. He deserved the chance to let it out, so I put my hand on his back and waited. A couple minutes later he leaned back and wiped his eyes. "Thanks."

"Sure." I glanced over at his mother when she groaned and rolled onto her side. What would I have done if my mother had been like that? I couldn't even imagine. My mother had been beautiful and perfect. I didn't always think so when she was alive, but death filters our memories, and we are left with either the best or the worst of someone after they're gone. I remembered my mother making me do things when I was a kid that made me think she was mean, but even by the time I was a teenager with two little brothers I understood her motivations. We always came first. Everything she did was in our best interest. Vic, his mom never had to raise him; from the time he could talk and understand her vulnerabilities, he was raising her.

"Darry, I need to tell you something."

We were interrupted by a knock on the door before we got to what Vic needed to tell me. I'll get it," I told him. "Hello, come on in," I said, opening the door and standing back.

"Hi, Darry. I wasn't sure if I was at the right address or not." His expression was one of both disgust and pity, but from what Pony had told me he'd seen all this before, so it was no shock for him. He did some volunteering in some of the worst areas of the city.

"She's in here." I led him into the living room, where he dropped a black bag onto the floor next to Vic's mom.

"Okay…is she drunk?" He looked back to Vic, who nodded. "Looks like a few stitches should do it. Just need some more light, so maybe drag that lamp over here. I really don't usually do things like this…" He stopped and looked toward me. I don't think I even changed my expression; just looking at me was enough for him to remember how much he owed us, how much he owed Ponyboy. I didn't need to say a word for him to see his own sins mirrored in my eyes – the park, the fountain, my little brother choking and gasping for air…

"Thanks, Randy," I told him. "I appreciate it."

Randy did a quick and decent job of patching up Vic's mom before shaking my hand, then Vic's, and then heading out of there like a kid running from the cemetery on Halloween.

"There's coffee in the kitchen," Vic offered. "I usually make it at night, in case…" He stopped himself. No need to waste his breath, he knew that I knew what he was driving at. In case she had a bad night; in case she fell off the wagon; in case she turned back into the person he already knew she was. I went into the kitchen, found a chipped mug, and poured some of the murky brown liquid in.

"Feel like talking now?" I asked when Vic came in and leaned on the counter next to me. I didn't feel the need to point out what would happen next. He already knew, he had known when he called me. He was just trying to make it easier on his mom.

"Darry," he started, but stopped, like he didn't know how to tell me. So I waited. I'd wait all night if I had to. "Darry," he finally went on, "that day at the courthouse, when I met with the judge…he let me decide. He told me it was up to me if I wanted to come and live with her again."

Vic hung his head and waited for me to…I don't know. Maybe he thought I would get angry, or be surprised, or leave, even, based on the rest of the "dependable" people in his life. I wasn't surprised, though. I mean, I was surprised that the judge had put the ball in Vic's court, but I wasn't surprised at Vic's decision. I guess he didn't know that, by the way he was standing there waiting for the end of the world to happen right there in his kitchen. "Vic, she's your mother. You gave her a chance. It didn't work. It's okay to let go now. It's okay to move on with your life. You got your answer; you can't take care of her anymore."

He gazed up at me with guilt and shame in his eyes. "What will Pony say?" was all he asked.

"Vic, Pony loves you. He'll understand. Kid, you did not betray anyone, if that's what you're thinking." Vic looked away from me. "Hey, don't do that. You think I'm just being nice? When have you known me to make something up just to make someone else feel better?"

He smiled, a tired smile, and shook his head. "Okay. So what now?"

I reached over to the phone on the wall and handed Vic the receiver. "Call your dad."

**Melissa's POV**

"It's good to see you, Melissa."

"Hi, Dr. Gilman. I think it's time for the babies to come." He looks a lot like Sylvester Stallone. I wonder why he wants me to call him Dr. Gilman? Maybe it has something to do with him being an actor.

"Good. I guess the page on the calendar turned?" He smiled at me, what a nice smile.

"Is that how I'm supposed to know? I thought I was supposed to go by my due date." Maybe I should have come in a few weeks ago. Will they be too big now, I wonder?

"Just lie on this table. We don't have any beds right now."

I lay down on the Formica tabletop. I thought it was supposed to hurt more than this. I hope Pony gets here soon, but he's at a party or something. He'll come when dinner is over. I think he was making chicken. "Is it almost over?"

Dr. Gilman/Sly Stallone glances down. "Here comes the first one!"

I wonder if it's okay that we're having these babies in somebody's kitchen?

"Here it is," he says, placing a gray furry creature on my chest. "It's a squirrel!"

"A squirrel?" I feel so disappointed. I was really hoping for a baby! The squirrel looks at me and makes a chattering noise. How am I supposed to dress it in all of the little outfits I have? I'll have to keep it in a cage. And Pony can't stand squirrels, we had one in our attic last fall that chewed everything up and took two weeks to catch. I know I'll love it and take care of it because I'm its mother, but I wish it had been a baby. I hope Pony lets me bring it into the house.

"Melissa?"

Oh good, Pony's here. "Sorry it's a squirrel," I tell him.

"Squirrel?" he repeats. "Melissa, listen. I need to go over to Vic's. Are you awake?"

"Huh?" I open my eyes. "Vic's?"

"Yeah. What the heck were you dreaming about?" Pony looked at me with mild concern.

I waved my hand. "Forget it. Weird dream. I had a squirrel instead of a baby."

"Well, let's hope neither of them is a squirrel. They'll chew their way right out of that crib the first night." He smiled at me, and I started laughing like an idiot. A squirrel. I swear, sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind. In another couple of months, I probably will be. Until then, I'll just keep getting up three or four times a night to go to the bathroom, and hope that in the next dream I don't give birth to an elephant.

**Pony's POV**

The three of us sat up all night, talking. It took me a while to convince Vic that I wasn't mad at him, which surprised me. To be honest, I had never thought about the fact that Vic might still feel some loyalty to his mom, but remembering Johnny and how much it bothered him when his parents never asked about him while we were in Windrixville, I wasn't surprised. Maybe what threw me off was the idea of Vic acknowledging that he needed anyone. I hated that his mom had let him down again; I wasn't sure what it would take to make him believe that he was worth anyone's affection, if his own mother couldn't even pull it together for him.

With encouragement and over the span of about three hours Vic had, among other things, told us about Ray. Ray, the cop – protector of the peace, guardian of citizens, etc. etc. Ray, Vic's mom's old boyfriend; Ray, supplier of heroin. He was a crooked, sick, controlling person who I hesitate to even call a man. Within those three hours we learned about the abuse – no beatings, that would be too obvious. There were the mind games, and the threats, and the pain-infliction methods that didn't leave scars. And there was the closet, the reason that Vic kept all of his things in drawers at our house and irritated Melissa to no end by always forgetting to put his jacket in the hall closet. That was the confession that took the longest, and was the most painful – memories of being bound with duct tape and cowering in that locked closet, wondering when someone would open the door, knowing that he was at the mercy of someone who had control over not only him, but his mother. No food, nothing to drink, no bathroom, and none of his teachers ever read between the lines when he told them in the morning that the dog ate his homework. It wasn't any wonder he was out on the streets at the age of nine, I'm not sure I ever would have gone back. But his mom was there, and he had to protect her. For the first time, hearing about Ray, I had a vague understanding of why she had dumped Vic and run. It was probably the most selfless thing she had ever done for him.

"Ummmm…" Vic's mother stretched and wiped her arm across her bloodshot eyes just as the sun was lightening the Eastern sky. She gazed at us in a groggy haze. "What's goin' on? We got company?" None of us spoke, and within a few seconds she had woken up enough to realize what our presence, combined with the look on her son's face, meant. "Aw, honey, look…everyone was going out, that's all. Jeff got engaged, so we went out, you know, to celebrate. Jeff? Yeah, that's his name. Jeff. He works in the mailroom."

"Mom…"

"No, really, it was just this once, I promise." Her voice was almost gaining a pleading edge.

"Vic," Darry said, "you look like hell. Go take a shower."

Vic looked at Darry for an instant like he was going to argue, but then nodded, took one more look at his mom, and left the room.

Neither of us needed to say anything, she knew what was happening. I've always hated seeing girls cry. She sat up, put her head in her hands, and sobbed.

"Jean," Darry said quietly, "you have to let him go. He gave you a chance, now let him go. Let him have the chance you know you want him to have."

"The chance you know he deserves," I added.

"Oh, God, I just…" she looked up at us, makeup smearing across her wet face, and let out another sniffling sob. "I love him so much. Why can't I do anything right? I can't lose him. I can't…" Jean put her hands back over her face.

"You didn't lose him, Jean," I told her. As much as I hated that she had failed him, he was still a part of her, and she, him. Nothing I ever said or did would break that connection. All I could do was try to make it easier for him. "If you were going to lose Vic, it would have happened already. He never would have come back to you. Look at me." She wiped her eyes across her sleeve again and looked to where I had come to sit on the coffee table across from her. "You need to take care of you. And you need to let someone else take care of Vic. You can't do it alone. Okay? You need more help. And you will not be alone, your son will never let that happen. But if you love him, you need to tell him it's okay to go. Do you understand?"

Jean nodded. "Okay. Yeah…okay."

That night, Vic came back to live with us, and the next day he went with me when I took his mom to a rehab center. We went back to the judge on Monday, and by the following Friday, although I knew he would never be completely ours, Vic's last name was Curtis, and our family was almost complete.

Or at least, that's what I thought back then. But that's another story altogether.

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Thanks for reading! 


	18. Street Justice

**Warning: **Contains sensitive subject matter.

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders

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**Soda's POV**

"Hey Soda, hand me that…hang on…never mind, don't need it." Steve gave a push and a pull, and something clanked into place.

"Good thing you're here today, man. One of the kids bailed for a family vacation, and I got rid of the other one last week."

"You givin' them vacation pay?" Steve asked, peering at me over the hood.

"I didn't say nothin' 'bout paying him, did I?" I asked, throwing him a grin.

"What'd you toss the other one for?"

I sighed. "He was overcharging customers, writing up the bill with the right amount, then acting like he'd forgotten something so they paid the rest in cash. Guess it worked sometimes, and he pocketed when it did." The only reason I had found out was because Darry's fiancé had brought her car in, and the kid pulled it with her without realizing who she was.

"Kids these days," Steve muttered.

"You're tellin' me," I answered, feeling like I was sixty. I could almost see me and Steve sitting around on rocking chairs, watching the high school kids walk home from school and ducking the rocks they threw at us when we started on about the good ol' days. It made me laugh.

"What's so funny?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Never mind."

Steve grabbed a towel off the tool chest and wiped the loose grease from his hands. "You feel like heading over to the fair tomorrow? Or are you and Melanie doin' something?"

I shook my head again. "We ain't doing nothing. Had another fight last night." I gave an extra twist to the bolt I was tightening, feeling a little of my frustration transfer from my living flesh to the mechanics of the machine. It felt good, like punching a wall or throwing a ball through a window. Not a good kind of good, but good all the same.

"Fight about what?" Steve only looked mildly interested. He didn't know Melanie too well, which meant he didn't have a real good feel for what things were like between us.

"Hell if I know," I answered, wondering if Steve could tell I was lying. If he could, he didn't question me. I don't know why I didn't want to tell him, other than to say it didn't feel right for him to know. Maybe I just had some inkling that I was to blame, or maybe I didn't want to hear anyone say that it was something we would never get past. When one of you wants kids and the other one doesn't, well, there's not a whole lot of leeway for compromise. You can't go halfway on a kid.

"How're the babies doing?" Steve asked, like he was reading my mind.

"Good. Better every day. Jon's going home tomorrow, as long as there aren't any setbacks. Gina still needs to gain a little more weight before they'll let her out of the hospital." The twins had been born early, which apparently wasn't uncommon. Jon had had some breathing problems at first, but bounced right back, and the only thing keeping them from going home was that they had to be five pounds to leave the hospital.

"How're Pony and Melissa handling things? I was over at the hospital last week, but, you know, I didn't want to get in the way."

"They're okay. Anxious for the babies to come home. Pony drops Melissa off every day before work, sometimes Lin with her." There was another whole dimension added. Sweet little Linleigh was giving them problems on top of the babies. It wasn't like they hadn't expected it to happen at some time, I mean, the girl came to them with bucketloads of problems, but it kind of all hit at the same time.

"Man," Steve mused, staring out the window at the cloudy sky, "I can't even remember when Fizz was a baby, you know? I mean, I remember, but I don't." He gave a little laugh.

"Yeah," I agreed, though I really had no idea what he meant. That was when it occurred to me for the first time that, kind of out of nowhere, my best friend and my little brother had more in common with each other than either of them had with me. It was a sobering thought, and I was surprised at the pang of jealousy that went through me, but I was having one of those days when you can all of a sudden see your life like you're an outsider looking in. Things that I never thought about were clear as day. I tried to shake it off and blame it on the fight I'd had with Mel.

"Look, buddy, I need to run. You okay finishing this stuff up?"

I waved him off. "Go, be with your little one. I'm good. Hey man, thanks for the help." Steve slapped my outstretched hand on his way out the door. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

It was a while later that I heard footsteps, saw the legs standing next to the car I was under. Two pairs – a woman, and a little kid. I rolled out and grabbed a rag to wipe my hands. "Be with ya' in a sec!" I called from my spot on the floor.

"Take your time," drawled a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

My leg stiffened and throbbed just before another roll of thunder sounded in the distance. "What can I do for ya'll?" I asked, pushing myself to standing and pulling my cap down over my head.

The woman grinned at me and shifted a baby onto her other hip. "Hey, Soda. Long time no see."

It took me a second. "Oh, hey. How've you been?" I didn't care, really; it was just one of those things you say.

**Vic's POV**

"So Jamie tells Karen, you don't yap yap yap yap…"

"Lin, will you pick up the pace a little? It's thundering."

It won't rain," she responded, launching right back into her monologue. She'd been yapping my ear off since we'd left the house to go to Darry's, which was how I'd drifted off on other things and gotten off the bus a stop too late. "I hope you're happy now," I had snapped, but Lin had just paused for a second, then started talking again as soon as we started walking. I wished I could find the switch on her that would shut her up for five seconds. There were just days when she couldn't seem to stop talking. That gave me an idea. I reached over and ran my fingers quickly around her side and across her stomach.

Lin screamed and folded herself in half. "Vic! What are you doing?"

"Looking for the switch, the battery compartment…I don't know. There at least must be a volume knob somewhere that I can turn all the way down."

"Don't be mean," she griped, trying to hide her grin and pretend she really was insulted.

I shook my head, and Lin started talking again, so I thought about anything else that came to mind – the movie I'd seen last week, the new car Tom's family had gotten, the rug in my bedroom, the broken clock on the streetlamp, the chewed-up gum stuck to the sidewalk, the lint in my pocket…

"Stop!" I shouted, halting so abruptly that Lin walked into my elbow. Apparently some part of my brain had been listening to Linleigh's chatter. "What did you just say?" I demanded.

Lin looked at me like I was nuts. "Karen went with her mom to-"

"Before that."

"Uh…Jennifer and Melissa were waiting for-"

"No, after that!"

Lin thought back. "Michael and Corey were planning on having this kissing party in Michael's basement when his parents were-"

"That's it!" I shouted, and Lin jumped and backed a step away from me. Smart girl. "You do NOT get involved in that kind of garbage. You hear me?"

"It's just-"

"You hear me?" I repeated. "You're ten years old."

"I'm eleven," she countered.

"Whatever, it's the same thing. Ten, eleven – too young!" Lin had recently been showing a disturbingly keen interest in boys. "And you'd better not go behind my back, because you know what I'll do to you if I find out." I was hoping she did know, and that it was scary enough to keep a leash on her, because I really didn't have any idea what I would do to her.

"You're so lame," she told me, though by her tone I knew she was taking me seriously. She listened to me better than to Pony because her little friends all thought I was cool, so I took full advantage. Personally, I thought Pony should be paying me for keeping her under control. It was like a full time job. The girl was like a living train wreck, and I didn't envy the poor sap who was trying to get in her head and untangle everything.

I went to a therapist, too, but we mostly played cards while he tried to drag information out of me.

Linleigh, though – I was all of a sudden constantly after her to quit giving Pony and Melissa a hard time. She would go from flighty-happy to moody to screaming angry to crying her eyes out, all in one afternoon. I did what I could for her and let her talk to me, but I didn't get half of what she told me, and she either didn't know how to make it clearer or didn't want to. I could deal with most of it; the only thing that freaked me out was when she started retreating to her black hole, when she stopped talking and laughing and responding to almost anything. It was almost impossible to get any response out of her at all. I'd finally started to recognize when it was happening, and the only thing I had come up with to slingshot her out of it before it got too bad was to get a hold of her and tickle her until she got mad at me. Mad, I could deal with. I could undo mad. But that place she went to, it scared the hell out of me.

We were walking again, and I was starting to wonder why Lin hadn't started talking again when I realized she had stopped a few steps earlier. Her gaze was fixed on something up ahead, she didn't even hear me say her name, and by the look on her face, that captured prey look, I knew she had locked into eye contact with someone. Her face was white, her lip was trembling, and there was sweat running down her forehead.

I turned to see a couple of guys just ahead of us, one leaning on a lamppost, the other standing in the middle of the sidewalk. The one leaning on the post was staring at my sister, and a slow smile crept across his face.

He took a step toward us, and before I realized what was happening Linleigh darted straight into the road. I thought it was lucky a bus or something wasn't coming, because she would have been crushed, but later on it occurred to me that maybe that was what she was hoping for. She ran blindly, right into the street, because getting hit by a bus was better than being caught by him.

Lin made it past his grab and kept running up the road, toward Darry's, and the guy didn't even see me coming until I'd run full boar into him and we both went tumbling into the empty street.

"Get her!" he called to his buddy, who had been standing there kind of dumb-like.

We grappled for a minute before he overtook me and dragged me down the street quite a ways, to an alley, and I kept praying for a cop car, but of course there's never one around when you need it.

I'm no weakling, but I couldn't get away from this guy. He had a death-grip on me, and nothing that I did broke me free. I got manhandled into an alley, back behind a building, past a dumpster, and into a little nook that got left when the other building had gotten added on to. Before I even knew what was happening, the guy pulled my jeans open and plunged his hand down the front of my pants.

I struggled, but he wrapped his hand around me and squeezed just enough that I froze. He gave me a wicked smile that sent shivers down my spine. My first instinct was to yell for help, which I almost did.

"Make a sound, and I'll squash them like a grape," he warned me, and I clamped my mouth shut. I squirmed with revulsion as he moved a probing finger around, and it hit me all at once that I knew exactly which boyfriend this was. I finally got what Linleigh had been telling me about him, and my head reeled. _He hurt me. He hurt me. He tied me up, he held me down, he hurt me._

Standing there with his violating hand all over me, I finally got it.

**Soda's POV**

She smiled more widely. I hadn't seen Sylvia since, well…a long time. "I been good. You know, married, kids…" she trailed off.

"Yeah, I see. What can I do for you?"

"Well, remember that night we had together?" She put her hand on the little kid's shoulder. "This one here's yours, thought you might want to meet him."

For an instant my heart skipped a beat; I have no idea why, we had never been together. She had tried, after Sandy left and Dally died and I was tired and vulnerable. But I hadn't gone stupid.

Sylvia laughed. "Wow, you're jumpy."

I gave her a good-natured smile, though I hadn't found her joke at all funny. "So what's the problem with your car?" I asked.

"Oh, this old junker. Making all sorts of noises, and now's stalling at red lights. Darn near got me killed the other day! Course, I only drive on the weekends. Charlie uses it for work durin' the week, so I wait to do the shoppin' on Saturday morning." Sylvia rattled on and on about her life as I followed her over to the 'chipped-up old rust-bucket god-damned piece-of-shit', or something of that nature. I don't remember exactly, her kid was whining about something and she'd given him a good slap upside the head. "I told you, we ain't going there yet! Just let me finish here!" She looked up and gave me a sweet smile, probably the one her kids had given up on trying to elicit from her. "Should I wait?" I couldn't help but notice her tone was almost pleading.

I popped the hood up and took a look. "This could take a while, so I wouldn't wait if I were you. Need a ride anywhere?"

Sylvia sighed and looked disappointed. "Nah, my girlfriend lives just around the corner. You know, over on Baker Terrace? Anyway, we'll just walk over there."

"You'd better hurry," I advised, "before the rain starts."

She laughed and came closer to me, brushed up against my leg with her short little skirt. It looked like she had tried to erase a few years with makeup, and I wondered that she didn't realize how many it actually added on. "Soda, you're as cute as ever. It's been thunderin' for days, and it's still as dry as a bone. It ain't gonna rain."

I smiled, a genuine smile, feeling kind of sorry for her without knowing why. "Yeah, it is. I got a feelin' in my leg."

She laughed, a little high-pitched flirty laugh that had carried her right through high school to where she stood in front of me. "Oh, Soda. Alright, I'll keep an eye out for the rain. Jesus, Matty, stop tuggin' on Mommy's leg like that, I'm talkin'!" Sylvia gave another apologetic smile. "I seen you're goin' with someone these days."

So that was it. "Yeah, that's right," I answered, feeling no particular need to elaborate.

"That girl I seen you with downtown week before last?" she asked in all innocence.

"Well, then, Sylvia," I said, "didn't know I had me a spy." I gave her a grin to let her know I wasn't offended, though truth be told I found it a little disconcerting. "Yeah, that's her."

Sylvia looked thoughtful. "Huh. A little chunky, eh?" She laughed. "You know I'm just kidding," she prattled on, though I knew she wasn't. Mel was always making comments about losing some weight, but I never took it seriously. I thought she looked great. Evidently women really are vicious to each other. I vaguely recalled Sandy's words – "There's a reason they call us bitches, Soda. Snarling bitches, can't be happy with ourselves unless everyone else is just a little more miserable." She wasn't like that, but she saw it in the girls around her. I'd never heard Sandy say a bad word about anyone.

"I'm sure she's one of them nice girls," Sylvia continued. "She'll figure out soon enough she can't tame a bad boy like Sodapop Curtis." Sylvia notched her hair over her ear and switched the baby back to the other hip. I was bristling, and not trying to hide it. "Well, go ahead and see what's up with the car. My number's in the glove compartment," she added pointedly before turning to shuffle toward the sidewalk, small child in tow. "Bye!"

I waved, but didn't trust myself to say anything after her. I got the car into the garage.

It took me the rest of the afternoon to fix the car and fix my head on top of it. I couldn't stop thinking about Sylvia, and all the girls I knew who were like her – used to be a real looker, then became a real catch, then turned into the biggest fish in the lake that everyone wants a turn at hooking. Then after a while she's just the stinking rotten thing that nobody wants to catch, but it keeps getting snagged on your line like a dirty old boot. Those girls, they lost themselves somewhere along the way, and kept looking in the best way they knew how, but it just kept getting them more lost. Then one day they made it across the finish line, ring on one finger, baby dangling on their side, looking like they're too old and acting too young.

But it wasn't till then that they realized it wasn't a race at all, it was just a walk through the woods – a one-way, steady hike through the woods on a sweet autumn day. And they didn't even know it until they got to the end and didn't feel like they'd won shit. But even that wasn't the part that got me.

It was that instead of going from there, looking ahead, enjoying the rest of the walk, they spent the next forty years walking backwards, trying to see what they'd missed and wishing they could go back. Their whole lives, backing into trees and tripping over rocks and sometimes bumping into someone they once knew, never really hearing what their kids were asking them and not paying attention to the guy who was walking backwards right next to them.

Did it make any difference what you won? Did it make any difference if you had kids? If you had money? If you had anything? Or was it better to put aside the things you thought were supposed to happen and give in to what you really loved, even if it was different than what you thought you would love, as long as you were walking the right direction with a smile on your face?

I don't know where it all came from, but like I said, it was one of those days where you see your life like someone else would see it. Maybe I was spending too much time with Ponyboy. Or maybe he'd spent too much time with me. I laughed out loud to no one.

And I thought of Melanie. I remembered what she'd said the night before – "I may never want kids. I love what I do, Soda, I've got a career. If you can't deal with that, then maybe…maybe we shouldn't be together." I knew it wasn't what she wanted, to break up with me, and it wasn't what I wanted, either. I wasn't even sure why I wanted kids. It was just what I'd always expected, I guess. I might never even meet someone like her again to have kids with. And what would I feel like if she asked me to give up my business and everything I loved to stay at home with a couple of kids? She hadn't asked me that, she'd just looked at me like it hurt to think about, which it did.

I thought back to all of the little things we'd done together since we had met; all of the things that had become tradition, almost, like part of your daily routine, like making coffee for two in the morning and picking up pizza on Thursday if it was raining and cuddling up on the couch on Monday night to watch the Movie of the Week and pretending in front of her parents that we weren't pretty much living in one place even though we each had an apartment. It was the recognition of a slight look, a subtle gesture, that told how well we understood each other and how little the rest of the world knew about us.

Which did I love more, the idea of having kids, or the prospect of spending my life with a person who I loved to be with? The answer was so glaringly obvious I wondered why it hadn't walked up and slapped me in the back of the head the night before. I'd never felt for anyone the way I felt for Melanie, I realized. And I had never told her that. She knew there had been other girls, but didn't really know how she stacked up. Had no idea that, against everything I ever would have thought, she was the one who came out at the top in every aspect.

The wrench clanked into the toolbox, and I sauntered into the office and closed the door. As the first few raindrops pattered on the windows, I picked up the phone and dialed. She answered on the third ring. "Mel? We need to talk."

There was a pause. "No, Soda, I don't think so. I don't think we need to talk. Okay?"

Something in my chest clenched. I had to tell her that I understood. "Mel, listen-"

"Soda," she cut in. "Please. It will be there forever, you know it will. One of us will always have some resentment for the other, no matter which way it works out. It isn't fair for either of us."

"But…" I wasn't even sure how to finish.

"I'm sorry, Soda. I really wanted…I'm sorry." I could hear the tears in her voice.

"It's okay," I assured her. "I get it. I'll see you around."

We hung up. I leaned back in my chair as the heavy raindrops pelted the dust from the hot asphalt. We needed that rain. The ground was dry, the plants were dying, and the world was looking bleak and brown.

**Vic's POV**

I barely noticed it had started raining, when suddenly it was coming down in heavy sheets, washing pieces of trash past us that had spilled out of the dumpster. I tried to focus as they floated toward the sewer grate, wishing I could follow along.

He had undone his pants with one hand and was pressed against me, a strong hand still wrapped around me way too tightly, and I prayed to God and Allah and Moses – was he a god? – and anyone else I could think of that someone would find us there. My one motivation wasn't even for myself. I had to get away from him, I couldn't let him kill me, because then nobody might ever know what had happened to Linleigh. I had to get away so I could tell Pony.

"I like them young like you," he breathed.

"Yeah, no kiddin', you goddamned son-of-a-bitch sick bastard," I spat. I wanted him dead, I could picture myself sinking a knife straight through his sick pathetic heart that had no right to be beating on this earth.

"I know you like it, boy. How about right there? A little farther-"

He was jerked away from me so fast you would have thought someone had roped him. I stumbled forward and was caught by strong hands that stood me upright. Four tough looking guys – the kind you normally wouldn't want to meet up with in an alley, come to think of it – were standing there gaping back and forth from me to him. They were tough and mean and cold and hard, scary dudes who beat people with chains and would leave you drowning in your own blood if you looked at them crosseyed. And right then, to me, with my jeans falling down and the guy they were holding struggling to get away, they looked just like four angels straight from heaven.

"He was after my little sister."

That was all it took for me to say. They might have been dumb hoods, but not a one of them had needed to ask what I was talking about or how young could my little sister be if I was just a kid myself.

While the rain poured down around us, I stood there and watched the whole thing. They didn't go near his head until they'd broken some ribs, stamped his hands to a pulp, kicked him nearly to the point of castration – and they didn't stop until he was a crumpled mess in a heap in a puddle, left to decay in his own sins while the rain washed his blood down the sewer.

One of the four guys tapped me in the chest – well, it was more than a tap, more like a slug – and pulled me by the arm. "Let's get the hell out of here, stupid kid," he said, and I managed to get my jeans up and buttoned as he dragged me out of the alley. The rain slowed down and had almost stopped by the time we ran headlong into Darry around a corner. Anyone who didn't know him might have missed the relief that washed over him when he saw me.

"Vic! You okay? I found the guy in the alley-"

I nodded.

"You're Ponyboy's kid?" the one who'd pulled me from the alley asked. "Want us to go finish that bastard off?"

I almost said go for it, but Darry gave him a sharp look. "Don't be stupid, Curly. You wanna' get caught the second time around?" He looked at me before giving the scary angels a grateful half-smile. "Thanks."

Curly nodded. "I'll tell Tim you said hey."

"Yeah, you do that for me. Tell him his brother's a good kid while you're at it."

Curly grinned. "Hell, he wouldn't believe that one in a million years."

My brain finally kicked in again. "Where's Lin?"

"Back at the house. She wasn't making much sense, but enough to let us know that-"

I took off at a run and missed whatever he said next. I must have gone through that door like a bullet, because Jenn nearly jumped off the couch. She looked down at Linleigh, who was curled up on the couch hugging her knees, and gave me a concerned shrug.

I sat down on the couch, clothes still dripping wet and clinging to me, and put my hand on her arm. She was already there, already in the black hole, and she looked up at me like she didn't know me. I unwrapped her arms, moved her legs out of the way, and pulled her tightly against me. "I get it, Linleigh," I whispered in her ear. "I get it."

She gave a deep sigh, and I wondered – had I just pulled her a little bit out of the hole, or had I sunk a little way into it with her?


	19. EYL

**A/N: **Why, you ask, have I not updated this story in so long? I don't know! It's been half-written for so long, but apparently I needed to move to something else for a while. I wrote parts of it, re-wrote them, and finally got it finished. So, here it is – the last chapter of Ten Years Later.

**Dedication**: This one's for all of you who have been reading this story and making such wonderful comments and suggestions for the past fifteen months. Thanks, you're great! Also, I can't finish this story off without a thanks and a virtual hug to Tensleep, whose story _Different View_ was what kept me on this site long enough to decide to write my own story down. You're awesome!

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders

* * *

**Pony's POV**

Stepstepstep step step step. Step. Step.

I turned my head just enough to see if his eyes were closed before I took a careful breath. Out like a light. A light that gets flicked on and off with random constantness, that is. I used my semi-free hand to grope around on the chair for the small blanket I'd dropped. If I got it warmed up on his head before I set him down, he usually didn't wake up. Got it. I did a couple of mid-air folds with the blanket and set it against the back of his head before sitting back in the armchair to wait for him to be just a little more asleep, and maybe get a burp out of him on top of it. That was one of the frustrating parts – you finally got them fed, changed, and sound asleep, and ten minutes later they were wide awake again because they had to burp. Repeat process.

I set the pillow on the arm of the chair and settled in, nestling Jon up against me with the pillow taking the weight of him and my arm. I was getting good at this, I thought. I ought to be, I went through it every night.

Ever since the twins had been born, and excluding the first couple of weeks when Melissa's parents had come to help out, we each took one baby every night. Usually we rotated, since Gina was the easy one and it gave us each a little more sleep every other night. I had taken to sleeping out in the living room with whichever one I was in charge of so we could all sleep better by the simple act of not waking up anyone who wasn't already awake.

I sat for a bit and listened to the quiet noises of the sleeping house – the hum of the refrigerator, the overhanging tree branch in the back yard brushing against the gutter, the furnace kicking on in the basement.

The weather was just getting colder, so the warmth from the heating ducts had that familiar smell that you recognize when it comes back on after a long summer, but which becomes standard and eventually unnoticed as autumn wears on.

Linleigh and Vic were back in school, and so far nobody was having any problems. Lin had started seeing a more specialized psychologist after what Vic told us, and apparently she was making progress. It was tough going, it would be for a long time, but it was something. I was making progress, too, but at least my nightmares originated several years and half-a-world away. Some of hers were still wandering the streets of her home.

I think I had just dozed off when a noise at the front door startled me awake. I pulled myself up out of the chair and set Jon in the bassinet before going over to turn on the porch light and peer out the window. I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door immediately. "Soda?"

He was hunched over with our house key in his hand, like he'd been trying to unlock the door. "Sorry, I wake ya?" he asked in a loud whisper.

"Well, yeah, it's the middle of the night." I wasn't going to lie. "What's wrong? Come inside, its cold out there." I stepped out of the way to let Soda get past.

"Sorry Pone, did I wake the babies?" He was leaning a little too close and talking a little too…unclearly.

"Soda, are you…have you been drinking?"

He shuffled in front of me to the living room as I guided him with my hand on his back. "A lil'," he slurred.

"Sit down." I moved the newspaper off the couch. "Soda, you don't drink, everyone knows that. I even said so in that thing I wrote."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. What happened, man? What's going on?" I leaned back next to my brother and watched him run his hand through his hair.

"I saw her," he finally said. "I saw her, and she was with a guy."

He didn't need to tell me who he was talking about. I had never seen Soda so distraught over a woman before. He hid it well, but we still talked, so I knew his breakup with Melanie had been tearing him apart. "Soda, maybe you should consider talking to her, you know? I mean, maybe she's feeling the same way."

He gave me a sidelong glance. "She was with a guy," he repeated.

"Yeah, you said. But that doesn't mean she's happy. Maybe he was her cousin or something."

Soda looked at me for a second before he started laughing, then tried to quiet down when Jon stirred. "He ain't her cousin, Pony. But thanks for tryin'."

"What's going on?" A bleary-eyed Vic was standing at the end of the hallway squinting in at us.

"We're having a party," I said.

He came over and sat down on Soda's other side. Soda draped his arm over Vic's shoulders. "Sorry I woke ya'."

"Are you drunk?" Vic asked, cutting right to the chase as always.

"Naw, I ain't drunk," Soda answered with a sigh.

Vic shot me a skeptical look. "How would you know? You don't drink. That's what Pony said in that thing he wrote."

"What thing?"

"He never read it," I explained. "Hang on." Jon was fussing around in his bassinet, so I picked him out and set him against my shoulder, where he let out a loud burp. "Finally."

"You two should go back to bed," Soda suggested. "I'll just sack out on the couch."

"That's where I sleep," I reminded him.

"Right. So I'll go in with Melissa," he decided, setting Vic off laughing.

"How about both of you go in Vic's room? Vic, get the sleeping bag out of the hall closet, one of you can sleep on the floor." I took Soda's arm before he followed Vic. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll be okay. One o' these days." He gave me a wry grin and headed off to Vic's room

>>>>>>>>

I stood across the table from my brother, watching him. "So you don't even have a headache?" I'd already asked him twice, but I couldn't get over it. If I hadn't seen him buzzed off his rocker the night before I never would have guessed.

He grinned at me over his plate of eggs, grape jelly, bacon, and pink pancakes. He'd gotten up early with Linleigh and made the pancakes at her request. "Not even."

I walked over to the back door to open it, and the cool morning air wafted in as I sat down with my breakfast.

"Is that too cold for the baby?"

"No, he's got a blanket on." I gazed at my brother, wondering if I should leave well enough alone and deciding against it. Sometimes Soda doesn't want to talk about something because it really isn't something he wants to talk about, and other times it's just because he doesn't want to burden anyone else with his issues. "Soda, I really think you need to talk to Mel." I could almost see him shut down in front of me, see him make the decision right then that whatever I said would never be enough to sway him. I hate when he does that. He's always nice about it, but I can tell when he is dismissing a thought before it even has the chance to be justified. "Really. I mean, how much worse could you possibly feel? You're already not with her. You'll either find out that she really is over you, which is what you already believe anyway, or she'll tell you that she's just as miserable as you are. Right?"

Soda shrugged. "I guess so."

"So you'll talk to her?"

He let out a deep sigh. "If you promise to stop talking about it, I will promise to call Melanie sometime this decade."

"Good enough."

Soda stared at his plate and ran his fork haphazardly through his eggs. "Hey, thanks for letting me crash here."

I shook my head. "Soda, you know you can come here anytime you want. That's why I gave you a key. You don't need to thank me."

He took on a stern tone and looked up at me. "Yeah, well, if you ever showed up drunk at my place in the middle of the night, you'd be sleeping in the bathtub."

I gave him an even stare, and he finally grinned, so I gave in and smiled back, shaking my head at the memory. "That was a heck of a night," I said. "And for the record, the bathtub isn't such a bad place to sleep. At least not until you have to get out of it the next morning and stand up straight."

"Yeah," Soda agreed, "and I'll bet that was the last time you ever let Two-Bit get your drink for you."

"No kidding, man. And he used that good grain alcohol; I didn't even know it was there until I was hammered. Don't ever ask Two-Bit for 'just a Pepsi'. Good thing Melissa didn't find out, she would've had his nuts in a -"

"Find out what?"

Soda turned his grin to Melissa, who was coming into the kitchen with Gina in one arm. "That Pony was half-toasted the day you got married."

Melissa looked over his shoulder to his plate. "Oh yeah? Who made breakfast?"

"I did." Soda leaned back and stretched.

"Thanks. Pony, can you take her? I'm starving."

We did the baby-transfer-maneuver like pros, and Liss got herself a plate. The first few weeks you would have thought we were passing a bomb back and forth, as awkward as it was. As I sat there holding our daughter and watching my wife, something in me found itself grateful that we can't read each other's minds. She looked hideous, that was all I could think. Her hair was jumbled up in a tangle, her worn-out pajama top was not only mismatched with the bottoms, but clashed loudly, there were bags under her eyes, and she hadn't showered in two days. Whoever wrote that "till death do us part" line must have had mornings like this in mind.

"What's wrong?" Melissa asked, giving the pancakes a tentative lick before putting the forkful in her mouth.

"Huh? Nothing. I was just thinking, that's all."

"When's everyone coming over?"

Good, change of subject. "Around three or four. Did you pick up the rolls at the store yesterday?" Halfway through the question I knew she had forgotten.

"I'm sorry, I never wrote it on the list, so I completely forgot. Want me to run over and pick them up this morning?"

"I'll get them," Soda offered. "I need to run over to my place this morning, anyway. Just tell me what you need, and I'll pick it up on the way back."

Melissa looked relieved. "Thanks, I'll give you some money."

Soda waved his hand. "Forget it. I wanted to bring something over anyway." He stood up and dumped his plate off in the sink, then gave me a pat on the shoulder. "See ya' later, buddy. I might be a little late," he added, lowering his voice. "Got a phone call to make."

>>>>>>>>

"So where's Soda?" Steve asked. "Fizz, get away from that. I told you before we came, don't touch whatever's not yours. Put your hands in your pockets!" He shook his head. "I swear, that kid's tryin' to make me crazy. He don't listen any more."

"Don't worry about it, Steve. It's just a coaster. We don't have anything he'll break."

"I don't care, that's not the point," he replied. "I always swore I would never have one of them kids who don't respect other people's property. Fizz, dammit, put that down!"

Fizz was standing there with one of Liss's knick-knacks in his hand, pretty much ignoring Steve as he examined the piece. I didn't care, he was just a little kid, but Steve looked about ready to blow a gasket.

"Put it down," Darry said firmly, and Fizz put that thing back on the shelf like it was on fire. "If it ain't yours, don't touch it," he added reasonably. "And if you don't know, be on the safe side." Fizz looked at Darry for a second and kept his mouth shut. He's a little scared of Darry.

Steve looked relieved that somebody else had supported his authority. I never know what to do, when it's someone else's kids. I think a lot of parents have a tendency to expect more from their kids than other people do.

"Hey Fizz," Vic said from the hallway, "I got some stuff in my room you can do. You like to draw?"

Fizz took off after Vic, and Steve finally relaxed. "Vic's good with kids," he said.

"Yeah, he is." I was noticing that he was good with people in general. As anti-social and defensive as Vic had initially seemed, over the past year his true personality had really begun to shine through. He was still blunt and sarcastic, but his authoritative air had other kids and even a lot of adults impressed, including me. He was mature for his age, and drew a good line between asking for help and handling his own problems. He still pissed me off plenty, mostly on purpose, but I wouldn't have traded him for the world. I couldn't imagine life without him as part of our family.

Lin dropped down onto the couch next to Darry and watched Gina finish off her bottle. "She really likes you," she said nonchalantly, but I could pick up the slight jealous edge to her tone. I guess Darry could, too.

"She likes whoever's holding this bottle," he said. "And right now, she'll like whoever gets this wet diaper off of her. Any volunteers?" He looked straight at Lin, who giggled.

"Okay, I'll do it," she offered. "But only if you read me a chapter tonight."

Darry put out his hand for her to shake. "Agreed."

"How's she doing?" Two-Bit asked in a hushed voice after Lin had disappeared into our room with Gina.

I wanted to say better, but it wasn't the truth. "They took her off the meds she was on because all she was doing was sleeping." I shook my head, disgusted at the unfair nature of the world. We could see Lin's potential, and we often got glimpses of the sweet little girl who was buried inside. It was just getting rid of all of her demons that was dragging us down. Without the support of our families, I honestly can't say that Melissa and I would be able to do it on our own. Sometimes Lin needed more help than we knew how to give, leaving us empty and frustrated. "It's an uphill battle," I finally summarized.

"Ain't this party started yet?"

I grinned at Soda as he crossed the room and tossed a bag into the kitchen.

"We were waitin' for you, buddy!" Steve said. "A party ain't a party without Sodapop Curtis!"

"We can go sit outside," I suggested. "The grill should be ready by now." I slid the plate of burgers out of the fridge on the way through the kitchen.

"He was her cousin," Soda said over my shoulder before we walked outside.

"Seriously?"

My brother laughed at me. "No. He was a guy one of her friends set her up with. She said he's annoying." I couldn't help noticing that Soda looked rather pleased with that information. I just hoped he wasn't setting himself up to get hurt again.

"So what else did she say?"

Soda shrugged. "Not much. We're having lunch sometime next week. Just to talk," he added. "So who's doing the cooking this year?" he called out.

"I did it last year," Two-Bit piped up.

"Like hell you did," Steve answered. "As if any of us would let you near our food."

"I think Stevie here should have the honor," Soda suggested. "He's Mister Diner Man, surely he can cook a burger over some hot coals."

Steve tossed his bottle cap at Soda. "Yeah, it's a real honor, cookin' up your food." He stood back up from the chair he had just dropped into and waved a hand at me. "Where's the flipper?"

"Here." I handed over the utensil and sat down on one of the lounge chairs to watch everyone kick back and relax for a while. We had started this tradition about five years ago – getting together for a cookout on the day we'd lost Johnny and Dally. I guess you can only take so much weepy nostalgia before someone finally gets fed up and points out that we'd be doing ourselves a whole lot more good if we turned the day into something positive.

So far, nobody had skipped one. The plan was to keep doing it until there was only one of us left, at which time the festivities were solely at that person's discretion. Until then, it was a cookout, no matter what the weather was like – and we'd already had one year that soaked us all through, but it had made for an awesome impromptu tackle football game. We could talk about Johnny and Dal, but no angry outbursts or tears allowed. One of the best parts about it was that it was a solid way to get us all together to catch up on each other's lives. The years go by, and as much as you never think it will happen, friends separate for longer than they had intended. Pretty soon you wake up one day and realize that you haven't talked to them in ages. If nothing else, the cookout ensured that our connection would never be severed for longer than twelve months.

"Steve, is that supposed to be on fire?"

"Relax, man, you think I don't know what I'm doin' here?"

Soda snickered and Darry rolled his eyes. Two-Bit took a sip of his Coke – he's sworn off of alcohol since his girlfriend threatened to leave him if he couldn't control his drinking – and Steve tossed the flipper into the air and caught it repeatedly, until it finally dropped to the ground and Darry insisted he go rinse it off under the faucet rather than 'just burn the junk off of it'.

Despite our agreement, a slight wave of nostalgia washed over me as I watched everyone. Darry was getting married. Soda had his own successful business. Steve had a wife and child whom he supported well. Two-Bit had a serious relationship going, at least serious for him, and she wasn't even blonde. And me – married, mortgage, four kids…it wasn't the picture I had imagined when I was a kid, but I was happy. And then, there were the two who were missing. Who would they have been? Where would life have taken them?

I sighed deeply, breathing in the cool evening air and thinking back to how awful life had been on this night not so long ago. Some friendships dwindle with age, get lost, fall apart. Maybe that would have happened to us, if not for the common bond we all shared, especially on this one day of the year. But so far it seemed that we would be different. Here we were in my backyard, the rest of the gang, still going strong…and it was already eleven years later.


End file.
